So here I am again writing with bad news. 2012 has decided to be the worst year of my life.
12 years ago in 2000 when my father passed away in the April two weeks before his 50th birthday I though my world might end…
This year I am beginning to think the Myans are right… The world will end in December… At least our family feels this way.
January 7th my Grandfather was admitted to Scarborough General Hospital, almost died twice, recovered and was transferred to Providence Health Center.
Sometime in February my Aunt faced her own Waterloo, with some stuff that I won’t go into on this public forum.
March 31st my Grandmother had a stroke and on April 27th passed away, leaving us all with a huge void and me scrambling to find somewhere to live.
On May 14th my Grandfather was sent home to live with my Aunt (yes the one from above) only 12 hours later to be admitting to Oshawa General due to a severe, bladder, liver and kidney infection and a week later and on some strong antibiotics he was released back to her home.
That very same day my beloved cat Alistair who was 17 years old passed away peacefully on my lap.
Now tonight I have found out that my Aunt’s (again the one from above) father-in-law just passed away from septicemia at Markham/Stouffville hospital. This is two grandparents lost to my cousins within four weeks.
WHAT THE HELL did we do…? Is this punishment for something…? Is this a lead up to the world ending on 12/12/12?
I don’t know. I just know enough is bloody well enough. It’s not even the half way mark through this God-forsaken year and already we are up to our ears in SHITE!
Something has to give… Something has to go well! Something… Please no more…
What more can one family take?
I remember thinking at Christmas last year that my Grandfather was so sick that I could not miss Christmas dinner, it might be my last with him… Well the joke was on me… It was the last with a lot of my loved ones.
I have known Mr. McDonald, since I was three. I remember going to his house with my Aunt and her then husband… Sitting in the basement play with Skidattle the dog…
My life is changing like a whirlwind.
My beloved cottage is being sold. My Grandparents’ home, where I used to lie on the couch and watch Bonanza and Fraggle Rock on Sunday afternoons while the grown-ups prepared food, is being sold. Someone is going to have memories of the back garden like I do… Only thier own memories. I don’t want to share this with anyone.
Someone will smell my Grandmother’s lilac, and eat the rhubarb.
Someone is going to have fun in the basement where I once did a summer-salt and landed head first into the china cabinet and smashed the glass… Where for years we had New Years parties. Where my Aunts who are only 12 and eight years older than me use to scare me with rubber hallowe’en masks.
My Grandfather is very sad right now because seems everyone around him is going…
I don’t know much what to say, except that I am mad. I am MAD that we are all going through so much and unable to really stop it.
This is the year I turn 40. Aren’t we supposed to celebrate that milestone…? Is anyone going to be in a celebrating mood!
Anyway. I have to go and sort out my head.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. At least I have my health, my job, a roof over my head, my little family, my extended family and good friends.
I just hope I can make it through June without anymore calls that start with “I just called to tell you…” and the soft sympathetic voice trails off… “So and so just passed away!”