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Babbling
17 February 2004 @ 11:48 p.m.
It has been over twenty-four hours since I found out Kerby died. I do believe the idea of it has sunk in. One of my closest friends is dead. And now I know that she planned it.
The last one was planned � she put approximately two months of thought into it. But it didn�t work. This time we fear she�d been planning it since Christmastime.
Most of the postcards arrived today. I don�t have one yet, I expect it tomorrow. They have numbers on them and two lines of passages. We know of at least eleven that are in existence. Eleven post cards sent to those she thought of in her plan. We�re hoping once we have them all we�ll know what was running through her head at the end. Mouse is still in town � she walked to the mailbox with me this evening. We stood hand-in-hand as I put the key in and stuck my mitten-covered paw inside. One piece of junk-mail, a letter from The Father, and a key to the package drop for an order I placed a week ago. My postcard wasn�t there. Mouse�s arrived at her parents� house today.
I don�t know if I can go to the box alone tomorrow. But Mouse won�t be here � she has to run back to Wisconsin for a few days. She�ll be back Friday to drive together down to the funeral. Bubbles will be arriving at The Parentals� place late Thursday night. The plans are made.
My response to all the news has been what can be called typical. This morning as I was dressing before heading to campus I burst out into tears. The hard, fast, hurtful kind. I cried as I drove � just as I was instructed not to so many years ago by the psychiatrists. The tears were brief, though, in comparison to other days, something I was thankful for. I made it through two courses before I had Wiseman drive me home. That man always seems to be in the right place at the right time to offer a hug and a hand.
Once home, though, the binge eating began. Started off with a simple lunch in the diet food stash. Then a peanut butter and jelly sandwich shortly thereafter. Before I knew it I had ordered pizzas and breadsticks from a local pizza joint. Chocolates were dug out of the cupboard and shoveled into my mouth by the handful. I don�t even like chocolate. Now I sit here with a soda in hand wondering why I deal with crises by eating. It�s a crazy question that I know the answer to, yet I still ask it. Mouse didn�t bat an eye when she saw the pizza boxes stacked on the counter. I almost see her acceptance as justifying what I do to cope with pain and loss.
But alas, I babble.
I was not in attendance at Chewba�s games tonight. Apparently his hockey team won yet again, so he�s happy. I feel a bit guilty for not being there � I should continue to be there to support him, especially since he �blew his knee out� tonight whatever that means.
This coming weekend is his birthday. It�s his birthday and I will be driving many hours to attend a funeral. We had plans to meet up with his closest friends and go skiing for the weekend. I had all these plans. . . Hopefully he continues to be supportive and doesn�t freak out because I�ve not spent any time with him these past few days.
But I�m babbling more now so I shall stop. I�m certain I�ll look back on this entry in a year and wonder why I didn�t stop writing while I was ahead. . .
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