Synopsis of yesterday:
Spent morning with Brandy attempting in inject a little more organization into the rest of my trip. Not too much – just a little. It’s important to be true to who you are/what you are capable of.
Drove down to Beamsville in the terrifying, terrifying rain. I know I lived in Ontario before and as such, should be unaffected, but yesterday was a tough day. 7 months since Joey died. I miss him. I am lost. I am in pain. Tremendous emotional pain that trickles down and affects my body and spirit. It is impossible to shake, even though I keep trying. When I went to the longest game for CF in Vancouver on August 26th, (the 10 day continuous women’s hockey tournament CF fundraiser that broke the Guiness World record), I met one of the other speakers who lost his daughter to CF in 1999. “Does it get any better?”, I asked. “No”, he replied. “You just learn to live with a giant hole in your heart.” That is what I’m trying to do. They say that time heals all wounds. Maybe distance can help, but I know that this man was telling me the truth. No matter how much time passes, it will not change the fact that Joey’s death was unfair and could have been preventable. The world has been robbed of my favorite person and we are worse off for it. That’s why I am trying to make a change, for others, but at times, I am tired, I am overwhelmed, and I am hopeless. Such was my drive to Beamsville yesterday, traveling on a road that I had traveled before, with him at my side, behind the wheel. Only this time I was alone, sad, and trying to navigate my way solo.
The entire trip has been like that to some degree. People are happy to see me on one level, but I can see the sadness in their eyes that I am showing up alone. I know there is sadness in my eyes too. That is how things are now and there’s nothing we can do to change it. Even though I know they want me to come and visit, even though I know we will have some fun eventually, he is missing for all of us and it is devastating. I experience this at every stop, with the exception of the flea bag motel. In addition to the low, low price and bedbugs, they give you emotional asylum. Thank goodness for small blessings and questionable linens.
Once I arrived in Beamsville, I met up with my friend Jesse: AKA Mr. Roper. He’s always good for a laugh, so we laughed, talked about nothing, and then hung out in his camper van and evaluated the slop he attempted to make me for dinner (damn you celiac disease! That slop looked tastey).
After that, I went to Gloria and Ian’s, or as Joey used to affectionately refer to them: Glorian’s. Had a quick visit and went to bed where I tossed and turned and eventually passed out.
Here’s hoping that today is a better.