a very bad day–monday mourning

yesterday was a very bad day.
driving to work, early in the morning, the car in front of me decided to turn left. as i approached it’s rear, an oncoming car wanted to turn left between us. no time to stop short to let the oncoming car clearance. i checked my rear view mirror and saw a car that looked to be aways behind. i switched to the right lane to get out of everybody’s way.

about a quarter mile on i see luisa’s car behind me and i wave. she’s pissed. she’s yelling at me. i motion to her, “what the fuck?” she makes her way ahead of me and stops near where i usually park in the lot at work. she gets out of her car and comes up beside me, yelling, “you ran me off the road! it was like you didn’t even see me and i ended up in the Chili’s petunias!” i said, “i didn’t see you! omygod!”

i realized that the car i saw in my rear, objects-are-closer-than-they-appear mirror, was luisa’s and she was probably right at my side.

ogod. i almost killed my friend!

it’s a true friend who, after you fail to kill her, comforts you in your realization that you almost totally fucked up.

later that night, i found out my uncle died.

uncle andy was truly my second father. we lived next door on 3 acres of ground. there was me, my sister lori, my cousin donna and her brother andy. all of us in descending, two and a half year order. we played together. ate together. bathed together. grew up together.

my mom died in 1989. uncle pete died a couple years ago. now uncle andy. that’s it for the ferrilli’s. my mom’s line is gone. there’s no one but my dad and aunt rose left to hold the line between us and mortality. and their hold is tenuous…slipping fast into the oblivion of failing health and dementia.

it’s our time now. our time to plan the funerals and to face the reaper one on one.
we are holding the line now and our grasp is slipping and our children are turning to face the future.

remember, be here now.


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