Mom's back is blown.

Mom threw out her back this morning on the stationary bike in the basement.

Got her on the couch. She's not going to work today. Maybe not tomorrow, either.

Dad usually takes care of her when this happens cause I've got phone call's to answer. Troubleshooting to do.

Fucking A.

...

Just realized we're out of milk. I might have to go to the store.


Threw up in my mouth a little.

Anxious,
Kevin

Bowling for Mom = Good news for everyone (esp. me)

It’s been a few days, now. Life’s starting to seem more normal without dad around the house anymore. Mom went bowling yesterday like she usually does on Saturday morning's. I was a little surprised because she hasn’t been herself since Tuesday (understandably). She’s sad. I can tell.. I’m ok, though. Dad’s body is probably going to make some real nice soil over the next few months. At least, that’s what we hope will happen to us after we die creatures of the wood. It’s better than being eaten by a dog.

Personally, I take solace in the fact that no one’s going to be sad when I go. Mom will probably be dead already, and I’ll have been living alone. It’s a thoughtful way to die, really. No one gets hurt.
Anyhoo. Last night, mom mentioned over dinner that she’s going back to work tomorrow. Try and imagine my sigh of relief when she said that. I thought since she had taken Wednesday-Friday off last week since dad’s passing, I might have to step up and cover for us with my income. Realistically, I could never support anyone (let alone myself) on just my salary alone. There are so many things to pay for. Cable... heat, even.

I was kind of afraid for a while that she would be too sad to go back to work. Maybe take an unpaid leave or something so that she could go out for walks and think about dad some more. I can understand doing that after you lose someone important, but it makes me sweaty and kind of anxious imagining her passing onto me the responsibility of supporting the two of us on just what I make alone in the at-home computer tech business. It wouldn’t work. The numbers come out pretty bad. I’d have to take a second job or something outside these walls.

I don’t want to do that. I can't.

Plus, I've heard its sort of cold outside right now, snow even. And there are lots of people walking to and from school during the week. I see them from my window.

If I took another job outside my room, I’d have to figure out how to function outdoors. Not to mention navigate my way to wherever the job was, and then work in an environment unlike my bedroom for most of the day.

Not to mention avoid stress-barfing from the moment I leave this tree to when I return. God damn.
...

I'm officially sick of my fear. Fear of nature/people/large spaces/physical exertion/dogs/hypothermia/general discomfort/ etc. etc.

But. Should I really go ahead and do anything about it if I don't need to leave my house for anything?



I don't know. Mom’s ok, so everything is alright. I'm set, I think.

Bed soon,
Kevin

Dad's gone. Life's changing real fast.

Dad died last night. Couple guys from the community found him lying near his favorite tree in the park downtown. Mom and I knew it was time. He came into my room around 8 to say goodbye before heading to the tree. He looked tired. Really old. Fur on the tip of his tail visibly falling off. I asked him if I could save it. He agreed. I put it away in my dresser.

Mom didn't want to walk him to the park. She's hardly said a thing since he left last night. They spent a long time alone in their bedroom before he came to say goodbye to me.

I'm glad a bunch of friends, and neighbors showed up to see him off. Dad wouldn't have wanted anyone there in the park when he went. A little parade, though. He definitely liked that.

I should have walked down there myself. God damn my sensitivity to the outdoors. I guess I can't confidently say I would have made it back home, anyway.


35 animal years in this town, and I still haven't seen the tree my father loved so much in that park.

If not dad's passing, maybe this blog will help me to re-evaluate my time here a bit.

Pensive,

Kevin