Fuck.

Losing D, as it turns out, is a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be. Because we weren't as close these past few years, that didn't stop my mind from thinking that one day she'd get better. That one day, we would revert to the old days. Even if it was only a once a year visit where we could get together. It hasn't been a month, and it seems like the healing processes has yet to begin. I keep asking myself why I thought this would be easy, and there is no reasonable answer. A couple of off years does not cancel out 20+.

Flowers

My husband has been pretty fucking amazing.
Flowers from him on Valentine's Day.

Guilt and Grief

I went to see the doctor yesterday about my back going out. When the nurse' aide weighed me, I noticed that I had gained ten pounds. I mentioned my weight might be what's messing up my back, and that other than my job, I had not been especially active this past year or so. The doctor asked if that was because of depression.. Well, this filled my thoughts of D., and I cried and cried. Sobbed, really.

I gave the doctor a brief summery, and when I mentioned the date of D's passing being the 30th of January, she acknowledged how it wasn't that long ago.
 Not so long ago at all.
In the car, I was telling my husband, with a good amount of shock, how it hans't even been two weeks since D. died.
He said "it's only been a week and a half."

It feels like it's been months.

Over the passed year and a half - two years, it has been depressing that my best friend essentially slipped off of the face of the earth because of her drug addiction. To not have anyone to really talk to other than my husband, and not really wanting burden him..

Kitty also listens to me.

The few days after D. passed away, she stayed by my side.

 Even when I got out of the shower, which is usually her cue to skedaddle. 

Sometimes, I'll confide with my boss, because she's a pretty cool person, but at the end of the day, she's my boss.

Granny's passing has not hit me nearly as hard as my childhood best friend's death.
 It's more guilt that I feel, for not mourning her death as much as I feel that I should.
To be fair with myself, as far as I can tell, other than her health, Granny has not had a bad life.

D. on the other hand had suffered mentally and emotionally, from a deep betrayal, and the loss of a proper childhood.
There was always the hope that D. would get better. That the stint in treatment would work.
That she'd be better in time.
I have always envisioned us together in our old age, because we'd been together for so damn long.  We were there for each other through the darkest times. We grew up together. My memories have been woven, and tangled around her image.
It's just so fucking sad.

It's Pouring

Saturday was the day before today. That was the day that I found out my childhood best friend had passed away. Clinking that link gives a rough outline of our relationship, and the changes it went through when loyalty was brought into question.

 What I didn't mention is that she had a nightmarishly horrible childhood incident which changed her life forever after. What happened, along with situations and decisions after said incident essentially drained her of her innocents.
All combined, she spent a ridiculously large amount of time in juvenile detention.

When I wrote about her being a strong leader, I should have mentioned her fierce courage. How she was easy to look up to. She went through pure hell, yet faced obstacles in life with an upturned chin, and daring bright blue eyes. Always ready for anything.

D. seemed fearless. But, she'd give you the shirt off her back.
I can recall, once I was sick, and we didn't have money for cold medicine, so D. stole some for me from the Super Fresh. (She stole often, and had pretty much perfected her skills by that time.)

In most accounts, D. really was fearless. But, her pain remained, and heavier drugs eventually became her outlet.
 And when the drugs became stronger, she knew not to call me.

At first, I didn't understand. Thought she found new friends, or was sick of me. But, in hindsight, she was attempting to deaden her emotions with whatever numbing drugs she could grasp hold of.
She must have known that I would never stand an idle witness to her dealings with the
 newer of drugs of choice.

I am full of regret and guilt. Struggling to ignore those feelings, and am concentrating on all those beautiful times we shared before and in-between.
I loved her.

My brother A. just called.
My mother's mother just passed away.