So. How was YOUR Weekend? in Day by Day

The weekend is behind me. I started to see some improvement on Friday in my younger brother: much less pain, a cheerfulness that had been missing, and he went on and on about redesigning medical equipment. The last time I’d seen him, he looked so bad that when stepmom asked if she should fly down, I said yes. So I had a very short visit with her at the hospital. Toward the end of our visit, my brother and his wife mentioned that he was being treated for Graves Disease…which is what ended Nick’s life.

I was stunned. I’d stressed thyroid testing to my brother but he just brushed it off. I understood why…everybody is giving him advice. My uncle calls and tells him it’s probably his heart, my aunt tells him where his blood clots are, and on and on. But when the doctor came in and said his numbers were off, she was disinclined to treat him because he’d had a CT scan recently and that can throw the thyroid off without being a permanent thing. I tried to tell my brother and the doctor about my son’s thyroid and I DID mention Graves Disease, but as I said, it was sort of brushed off.

So when my brother and his wife said “Graves”, I told his wife that I’d told the doctor and my brother about Nick. His wife had not known what Nick died of (everyone just assumed it was drugs) and SHE was VERY interested, especially when I told her that Graves was inherited. I suggested that perhaps it might not be the ENTIRE solution to my brother’s trouble, but the fact that he had made great improvement after receiving medication for Graves sure seemed indicative to me. We made plans for a short visit Sunday night, which never happened. I’ll explain later.

On Saturday, we drove to Naples for my older brother’s memorial. I found it quite ironic that the one sibling he hated, me, was the one speaking at the memorial. I was gracious. I did not speak of how he would physically hurt me as a child. I did not mention his ugly e-mail to me, telling me how he despised me. I did not mention that he did not attend our mother’s funeral. Or my son’s funeral. I did not say he was a womanizer, and, even though devastatingly handsome, quite cruel. Instead, I shared a couple of stories, then read my younger brother’s thoughts (he couldn’t attend because of hospitalization).

My crazy aunt did not attend. I suspect she is sulking because no one personally invited her. I was unimpressed with the venue and was turned off by the parade of past girlfriends who came up to me and my older brother’s ex (whom I adore…he was verbally abusive to her, too) to tell us their dating story. It was not a pleasant afternoon, but I did get to see a few people, such as my cousin, that I enjoyed.

Sunday was my hardest day. We drove to Winter Park to meet with Sweetie Pie, the girl who broke up with Nick who then went into a downward spiral. We both had questions, which we answered honestly. She took most of the things I brought, some were not a part of the life she’d shared with him and gave me a necklace with a tiny heart of diamonds, tilted to the left. She said Nick had given them to her as a set of earrings and she had a jeweler convert them into necklaces, one for her and one for me. She gave me the one that leaned left because Nick was left-handed.

I cried throughout most of our meeting. Actually, we all cried, but I blubbered. It was a very loving meeting but so sad. This was a girl that had fit into the family perfectly. We all adored her. She needed to hear that. I’d pushed her away, in a nice way, because it was just too much to deal with, but we’re approaching the two year anniversary of Nick’s death and I couldn’t leave her on the back burner forever. She understood. She crossed her fingers, held them up and said, “I know you deeply love all your boys, but you and Nick were like this.” I told her, “That’s why when people say I’m so strong to have given Nick’s eulogy, they don’t understand: I HAD to be the one to speak. No one knew him better and no one loved him more.”

Saying good-bye to my son is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Meeting with Sweetie-Pie was the second hardest. I ripped off the scab and the primal scream still resonates, but I know I will begin to heal just a little more and this time, the scab will be a bit smaller. Eventually, the scab will get ripped off again, but this week is the start of the current healing.

My younger brother was doing better than ever on Sunday afternoon but begged off a visit because all the people who came down for older brother’s funeral were visiting and he was tired. I was still feeling overwhelmed from our meeting with Sweetie-Pie, so was glad he did.

We took a scenic route down the spine of the state, stopping at a roadside stand where a man was making these marvelous fresh fruit concoctions, and serving them in a large container. It turned out he was Hispanic and they eat their fruit salad a bit different from me. The side table of condiments was sort of a sweet/hot Tobasco concoction that the others were applying liberally, then squeezing what they called lemons but they tasted like limes, then sprinkling with salt. We did the lime and salt, but skipped the hot sauce. Interesting combination, though!

We’d been on the road so long, our intake of fresh veggies had dropped off so the fruit salad was heaven. I wish there’s been more pineapple, but it was generous with the mango, papaya, honeydew, and some kind of crisp (like a macintosh apple) white fruit that we liked very much. It was only $4 and the cup was extra large. That, and the rural views as we drove along soothed our jangled nerves.

We survived a tough weekend and did so gracefully. I better get stars on my crown for this or I’m gonna be really ticked off!

All lives experience good and bad. It forms you and sometimes transforms you. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. I’m using this week to rest and regroup.