.
2003-05-10
11:30 a.m.

Cavorting! Frolic! Also, Reality!

So, this week was nuts at work. I had some huge coups (national media coverage! getting public credit for the handling of a multi-million dollar donation (even though it was so easy that I feel lame for getting credit for it!)!) and so I was really busy with stuff that was outside of my normal work flow, and now I feel behind on everything else. I'm always behind, because there's too much to do and only one me, but I get uptight when I'm more behind that I'd expected to be.

But. It's Saturday. So, no work talk!

The point being, when I left work yesterday, it was gorgeous out, and my friend and I were en route to some random girl's birthday party. I didn't know the birthday girl at all, so I was officially an extra. I'm okay with that. Surprise! You have a million friends! Just don't notice that the back row is comprised of complete and utter strangers!

Despite the slight awkwardness of the semi-party crashing of the night's plans, I was excited because it was Friday, it was nice out, and I was not at my desk in a basement writing a press release or editing some research bios or something. I was outside and there were flowers and there were squirrels and they were married.

My friend and I were having hyper giddy conversation fueled by a) weekend and b) weather, and then my cell phone rang. And it was my dad. And my dad never calls me this early, ever. He's usually a 9 p.m. and after or weekend caller because of the free minutes. In fact, I don't think he's called me outside of those times since the advent of the cell phone calling plan. So, of course, I'm like OH MY GOD SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG. Because I overreact like that.

So I answer and we have this bizarre conversation. First of all, I'm trying to act not-panicked and also trying to not get myself killed while walking through traffic and amongst carts and farmer's markets and fish stalls in the North End. But I'm also trying to figure out why he's calling at such a weird time, and he's totally like, "I'm just calling to say hi! You told me that you prefer to get calls on your cell phone, so that's where I'm calling! How are you? Where are you? Normal!"

So I'm completely lulled into this false sense of security after a minute or two, because everything seems to be okay. I totally hate being on the phone in public unless absolutely necessary, and I'm totally ignoring my friend, so I say I'm out and I'll be home tomorrow and I'll call him then if that's okay. And he gets super serious and drops the bomb of why he's calling, all over my giddy post work pre-drinks happy. Blah. It's a bad anniversary for the family and as usual, I've completely blocked it. Yay! It's May 9th, almost always that one perfect spring weather flower bloomy day, but then, if you're me, or my dad, or my sister or a bunch of other people, it's the anniversary of what was probably the worst day of your life, which would be the day my mother died. AND I ALWAYS FORGET.

I honestly think the only time I've remembered the actual day was on the 10th anniversary when we planned in advance to go spend the day on the Cape, planting flowers at her grave and doing all the fun vacation things we did when we vacationed there every year that she was alive and well. I have this bizarre way of dealing with it which is that NO ONE MUST SPEAK OF IT. occasionally I will whip out some jokes while someone is trying to be serious about it, because how can things be sad if I'm laffing? Ha. I make so much sense.

A few days before my wedding, I put forth the decree that absolutely no one was allowed to make me cry on purpose. No I wish she was heres, she would have loved to see yous, she would have been so prouds. None. I appreciate the sentiment but please don't do it because I'll completely lose it. Thank you in advance.

Obviously I should look into therapy.

But, anyway, I totally always forget the actual day. Somehow it seems irrelevant and I'd rather remember other dates, or no dates at all and just memories. I never, ever forget her birthday, and at holidays I always think about the ones where she was still around. But, honestly, this day is the worst day because it just makes me think of the last day and the last year and who wants to replay any of that? Because it sucked, and at that point it wasn't really even her anyway and what is the point of May 9th?

But I know my dad's just trying to be nice and trying to say that he's thinking about us and yes it was awful and we remember her and he loves us and the end. And I appreciate that, but every year I get the call and every year I forget that it's coming and every year I feel like ass when I hang up.

I honestly have no idea specifically why I wrote all this here, but I'm hoping that having it in print and yet also not in real, tangible lurking around the house print will give me a way to drill the date into my head so I'll remember it next year and have time to prepare myself for it. And maybe I'll delete this entry later. I have no idea. I'm babbling. Ha. Not that many people read this anyway, so it's practically private. And I'm still babbling. Okay then. The end.