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.
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