Fuck November. Just when I thought November had worked her worst anniversary because my brother died, for fuck's sake, on November 26th, I learned via the magic of the internet, that Abby, one of my oldest friends died today. November 30th. I went for a long walk in my hood, stopping to sob under trees and by fences and near barking dogs. If someone walked toward me, I crossed the street. I had a wad of wet toilet paper for a companion. Abby was a midwife like me and I've known her since I was 18, a fucking long time ago. And she was twisted. And the stories live in us and now I can't retell them with her.
She was supposed to tell me before she died that she was fixing to die. I wasn't supposed to hear about it on the internet.
Fuck November. Next year, I not doing November. It's cancelled.
When people with whom we have shared so much die, that part of us, the part which only they knew of, dies too.
ReplyDeleteOr that is how it feels.
I am so sorry.
Oh darling Beth. I am so sorry.
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Rebecca
Thanks, Mary and Rebecca
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I am so sorry. It is wrong that you had to receive the news that way. xo
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