the unfriend

As I have mentioned before I'm usually quick to give away my power to those who have something to gain from my allegiance. The work ethic of my father combined with my mother's sense of entitlement puts me right smack in the middle of where I'm at, which is Pecan Lane.  The view is to die for even when it's iced over or flooded.  The past few years have been totally devoted to caring for my parents and working.  No boyfriends or nights out.  Just too tired, ya' know?  Looking back, I see that the streak of luck we've had started way before the shit actually hit the proverbial fan.  After falling on the ice at the sawmill parking lot in DECEMBER 2013 my right scapularis tendon was ripped from the bone requiring surgical intervention the next year, when the schedule allowed. That was in late July 2014.  A couple of practitioners were overheard discussing my leave and how soon I would be able to come back to the sawmill.  That's a big no-no.  

About two weeks after the surgery Mama had a bad fall which resulted in a spiral fracture of her leg, as in splintered bone in the leg of a elder with osteoporosis and the same surgeon.  That put her into the rehab industry which lasted five months.  We had Thanksgiving at the home thanks to Millette and Bubba.  I would never have imagined that one year later we would be minus all these folks and Mo told me I'd be sorry about skipping Christmas and I am, but not enough to cry over.  We have for loan one 1995 Cadi Deville which hasn't been started since Noler's truck showed up.  If I was a betting gal I'd say the battery is dead and gas tank empty.  Mama has seriously cute high dolla' sweaters for big girls.  Make me an offer.

Every day someone asks "how are you?" in that knowing way which lets me know they were there at the end.  I tried talking to the recently hacked OPM today and actually found some nice soul who wasn't in a call center yelling over everybody else.  This was a sort of back door way of getting in touch with the VA and all their benefits.  My friend and I discussed at work today about how the USA used to take care of war veterans and now it's dog eat dog.  Born on the 4th of July.

We found Daddy's hand written funeral instructions and it's uncanny how close the whole thing came to being exactly what he asked for.  The chaplain who recruited both he and Mom as hospital volunteers is long gone so he wasn't available to serve but FUMC made it happen for the Staffords.  He wanted some guy to "hide behind a tree" and play taps for him and it all happened with a flag to boot.  I am still humbled by the daily expressions of love.

~Faith