Dirty Laundry: A Short Short

Rachael grabbed a white sock off the floor and brought it to her nose, determining if she should put it in the laundry basket or back in the drawer. Revolted by the stench, she threw it towards the basket. It landed right in the center of a dirty dish her husband left on the ground from the night before.

“You can’t be serious,” Rachael blurted out, looking directly at her husband lying on the bed watching another survival show, “You’re going to lay there watching me pick up after your filth you leave all over the house.”

Carter averted his eyes from the screen and looked at Rachael, not even a little surprised at her little outburst. “I don’t remember you asking me to help you,” he said as a matter of fact.

“Do I really have to ask you to help me out a little bit? I shouldn’t have to ask you in the first place! Stop being such a pig!” She picked the sock off the greasy plate and shoved it into the crammed laundry basket.

“Oh, you’re going to start with this tonight,” Carter said, setting the remote on the pillow, starting to stand.

“Yeah, it’s going to be this night again. Maybe if you got off your lazy ass every once in a while, you’d be able to watch your tv in peace,” Rachael said as her cheeks scorched. Maybe she went too far this time. Carter kept walking toward the door as if he didn’t hear her.

“Now you’re just going to ignore me? Come on, Carter, what are we doing?” Rachael pleaded. He kept on walking, now out the door towards the stairs. “Oh, there you go, walk away, just like you always do.”

Carter turned around and faced her, eyes widening, voice still cool, “Yep, I’m walking away. Watch me walk away” he said, and calmly walked down the stairs.

“You can’t be serious!” Rachael yelled out, her eyes burning red. “Don’t you walk away from me! You know I can’t stand it when you do that!” She reached toward the laundry basket and grabbed whatever could fit in her hands and tossed it everywhere. She couldn’t stop herself, wailing, scorching tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. After all of the contents were dispersed, on the bed, on the floor, in the bathroom, on the nightstand, she flailed herself on the bed and finally allowed the tears to escape.

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You Must Go On

You must go on, I can’t go on, you must go on, I’ll go on, you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried […]

Journal Entry: Hospice Day 3

She’s in a lot of pain, and moving around, agitated. She’s talked a little bit. She has weird chunks in her mouth. She has swelling in her hand. “Will you take it off please” is the clearest thing I’ve heard her say tonight, regarding her broken shoulder/arm on the pillow. “Help me, Hurry,” is what she’s saying. She just asked for water.

Maybe I should blog about it. Maybe people will have some words of wisdom or advice. Maybe it would be nice to share my story. It’s a hard story to tell. It’s a hard story to live. I don’t know how to describe it, how I lost G.G. (Great Grandma) one year ago, and now I’m losing my grandma. In the worst way imaginable. Maybe I should keep it to myself for a while.

I just don’t know what to do. I need something to keep me busy while I’m here. Maybe read, write some more. But write about what?

Dear Grandma,

Soon, you will find the sunlight over those rocky hills. All of your pain will be dissolved into the brisk air. You will feel the warmth of God’s breath on your forehead. You will have the relief to take a full, deep breath again.

I wish I could take all of your pain, and put it into me instead. You always took care of me. You always knew what to say when I came to you for advice. I know I was stubborn sometimes, and didn’t visit you enough, and I wish I could take it back.

You gave me your car, the ’93 Subaru Legacy when I was 16. I still have childhood memories of you taking me to pre-school in that car, always having a sucker for me in the glove box when you picked me up.

You are an example to live by. You changed so many people’s lives. You accepted everybody, no matter their race, religion, ethnicity, socio-economic status- and you always had humor and kind words to cheer someone up.

I accept your departure from this earth, into the other realm. I can only Imagine. What it will be like to meet Jesus. And your mother, brother, father, grandfather.

I will be okay. We will be okay. I just don’t want to see you suffer anymore.

I know where you are going, and I know that you will be with me always and forever. Give a big kiss to G.G. for me.

Love,

Jordy