1. Mrs. Wigglebottom is getting a bath. She smells.
2. I’m cleaning the tub again (because the dog is getting a bath).
3. The recalcitrant brother is coming.
4. I’m wrapping presents (so that the recalcitrant brother doesn’t see what he’s getting).
Crazy day, anyway. Off to the park.
My cousin, who you may recall, had just come out of a year-long substance abuse program at Thanksgiving and got a big write-up in the paper which pissed me off to no end, did what you’d expect last night.
He overdosed and died, leaving his body for his daughter to find.
I feel kind of like a wreck about this. Not for him. Who didn’t see this coming?
But for my uncle, who took him in and raised him like a son and who supported every half-assed attempt he made to get clean.
And for my mom and dad, who kept him every summer from the time they were married until the recalcitrant brother was born and who loved him.
And for his brother and sisters. I cannot imagine the pain of losing one of my brothers. It’d be like losing a chunk of my heart.
But especially for his kids. Especially for his daughter, who had to find him like that. And for whom Christmas time will always be when their dad killed himself and they had to find him.
They deserved better than that.