July 11th, down on the books (again)

Every year since 1979, July 11th has been my brothers birthday.  The past few years, a simple text gets sent "Happy Birthday Brother" and he replies "thanks".  That's about it, lol.  But in 2009, this date became so much more.  My Grandma passed away, and I cannot even express the feelings I had when this happened.  She was 80 and she had lived her life, and we all agree that it was her time to go, and that she was at peace with it.  But my Grandma died a month before my Dad. On the anniversary of her death, I miss her, yes.  But the image of my Dad in his wheelchair parked right in front of her "sleeping" body on the day of her funeral is all I can ever think about.  I remember thinking that the worst thing that could happen from her death is my Dad blaming himself, and I broke down every time I thought of how it affected him.  They lived together, and they were drinking buddies.  They were both alcoholics.  They both died of alcoholism, within a month of eachother.  I thought to myself "I hope they didn't park him right in front of her" as I walked into the funeral home.  My heart stopped when I saw where he was.  How horrible of them to do this to him, as if he wasn't going through enough...So, this is what I think of every July 11th. I hardly acknowledge the fact that it's my brothers birthday anymore.  

Needless to say, I woke up feeling a little anxious this day.  Sad, regretful, so many things.  I decided this was the day I get off my butt and take care of business!  Loaded the kids up, headed out to the most horrible place in the world...the DMV.  My license was expired, so I thought I should go get it renewed, and maybe being pissed of at the employees there for something stupid that was bound to happen would take my mind off the Grandma and Dad thoughts.  Not that I EVER stop thinking about them, but on this day especially...I needed some different thoughts. You have no idea! 

After battling construction traffic for about 40 minutes, we made it!  Unloaded the babies, and I had my wonderful Kenni there to help me...she was working for a milkshake that day.  Got them all out, carted them in there.  Oh wait!  Forgot my mail, you know proof of address.  Got back to the car, grabbed it...here we go again!  Get in line, check. Tell the lady why you're here, check.  Give her the necessary documents, check.  How much? I asked. She says $30. We take anything but Visa.  Of course, I didn't have my check book nor do I have any other card than Visa, and who the hell carries cash these days?  I left, mad.  But if my memory serves me right, I was not thinking of any family. 

On my way back home, Kenni reminded me to stop for her milkshake!  LOL, she never forgets anything!  So we're going..eastbound on the street.  Construction, lane closures, fun.  It's 11:45, lunch traffic. Yay.  We're approaching a light, going 35 miles an hour.  There's a black car going westbound on the same street we're on.  Normal right?  Uh hmm. Til he decides he wants to turn southbound at the intersection directly in front of me about 2 car lengths distance away.  BAM! T-bone. Loudest noise I have ever heard, silence...wait for it...SCREAMING CHILDREN.  Airbag dust everywhere, I am bleeding, my kids are all hysterically crying.  I'm seeing red, and panicking.  Kenni quickly jumps out to grab Big C, and I do the same with Little C behind me.  We are all ok. I'm bleeding, hyperventilating, and can hardly feel my legs...but I'm holding two babies now and I'm fine. I call my husband 10 times before he answers the phone...finally, he must know something is wrong.  

I swear it was 40 seconds and cops and ambulances were everywhere.  My legs were tore up, bruised all over, and I had a pretty nice gash on my arm from the airbag. Kenni was fine, completely, and Little C bit his tongue.  As I'm still freaking out, trying to calm myself down and be the supporting mother for my kids, I look up and see my knight in shining armour running like a bat out of hell across the street for us.  It became very real to me, by the look on his face, that this whole fucking situation was bad.  

To make a long story short, (shut up) it's now two weeks later and although I'm still bruised and my boys will not stop talking about "our car crash" I'm alive and well.  My car is not, it is totaled.  I have been going through a shit ton of playing around with these insurance companies to get my car paid for, and move on with my life.  I will, but...

Now I have another terrible memory to add to the collection for this damn day of July 11th.  I'm sorry brother, I still love you though.