I hate it when I get into a melodramatic mood like I am now. I don't know why I'm like this, but it's probably due to all the bad stuff that's going on around me. Unfortunately for you, the reader, you're going to have to bear the brunt of my current melodramatic state.
My sister called me before I went to work on Sunday with two important things to tell me. The first was that my dad called her and told her he'd had a mild heart attack a few days before but that he was all right.
Call me selfish and tell me I should just be glad my dad's okay, but this hurt my feelings considerably. That I had to find out Dad was in the hospital from Heather really busts my bubble. Ever since Mom and Dad split up I've had a great relationship with both of them, but Heather and Dad just recently bridged the gap between them. So why didn't he just call me himself?
What's worse is that when I called him to see if he was okay the next day, he said he didn't have a heart attack. He told me he had a seriously bad case of acid reflux (which can be lethal if not treated, by the way) for which he had to go to the hospital. He said it felt like a heart attack when it was at its worst, but that it was *not* a heart attack. So I called Heather back to see what was going on, and she swears up and down that he told her he had a mild heart attack caused by stress, and that the acid reflux was caused by the heart attack. In any event, I'm still hurt that he didn't call to tell me personally.
She also told me to call Mom, that she wanted to talk to me and that it was important. Since I had to leave for work within a half hour, I hung up with Heather and called Mom immediately. It turns out that Johnny, her current boyfriend, the one she's been hung up on and living with the past six months or so, has decided he doesn't want to be with her anymore. Therefore Mom has to find a place to live and soon. What I don't get is that while yes, I usually like a shoulder to cry on when my heart's been broken, I don't see that as a reason to tell someone it's imperative that they call me right away before they go to work.
Mom asked me if I thought she was outgoing (apparently he told her she wasn't outgoing enough and that they didn't have enough in common). I knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, that she wanted an answer, but I told her the truth anyway, and that's that I had no idea. Mom and I have always gotten along (except once or twice when we disagreed on a matter), but she never took me anywhere sociable with her. And rightly so. No, that's not fair, she has. When she was taking ballroom dancing lessons I went with her on rare occasions. But still, most of the time I saw her, she was in a home environment. I do know that since Mom and Dad split up when I was sixteen she's had quite a long list of boyfriends. Mom looks good for her age, but I don't think she got all those boyfriends by being shy.
In other news, my grandfather is dying. I know he got to live for a long time (he's pushing eighty), but I don't want him to go. I'm not ready for that. No one that close to me has died before, and I don't want it to start happening now. He's had cancer numerous times, though, and I know he's getting too old and too tired to fight it. I'm pretty certain that my trip to Florida this year will be the last chance I get to see him alive, so I'm tripling my efforts to go.
I don't know what's been with Clint lately, but he's definitely not my Clint. It's not that he's been rude or thoughtless or resentful or sad or anything else in particular. He's just not been himself overall. I want my Clint back.
Anyway, I'm just plain ole exhausted, so I'll elaborate on that and give the little bit of good news I have later.
Ciao.
-Ave
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