Every household has a list of banned words. They may be generic swears or something more creative. Growing up we were not allowed to use the term "fart", it was a "pooftah". But I digress. In my household the dirtiest phrase is "Unless it's too late". You can think it, you can procrastinate, but please don't speak those words out loud.
Exactly 520 weeks ago tomorrow I looked at the clock. 4:45p.m. She had just gone into the biopsy, the florist was closing and delivery to the house the next day would be a LOT cheaper. I told Burt, "I'll do it tomorrow....... If it's not too late". I did pause, for a long time. I don't know why. Probably because I knew I was really blowing it off for my own plans.
I was going to the family bar, with all the women to decorate for Christmas. I wanted out. A two year old, an infant, and teenager living with me, three deaths and a coma since spring, and I had just turned 21. Yup, that's how I was spending my evening.
And it was great. Festive tunes, funny girls and every dirty sounding shot in existence. I was the only one who didn't instantly know what had happened when Burt walked in with the baby.
An hour later, parking at the hospital, I still didn't have a clue. My aunt pulled up next to me, looking solemn. We walked in together, her laughing at me, somewhat holding me up. There's my dad. "So we're coma-ing again, huh?"
Yeah, not so much. I don't think he spoke, just handed me a piece of paper (a phone tree from work, he was worried about her students having a teacher the next day) and gestured toward Arney in a ball on the floor in a corner. Suddenly stone cold sober, I fell into my comfort zone of chaos management.
Over the next two days I didn't stop. I can't say I did my best work; I called people at 2a.m., I tried to punch a family member at the funeral home (she's getting her own post), I let my kid wear a chicken costume to the funeral dinner.
I had a clever ending, but I lost it. Intellectually I know that me speaking the phrase "unless it's too late" didn't supernaturally stop her heart from beating, but most days I believe if I'd sent the flowers things would be different.
Now, off to hang with some students to honor the teacher.
