The Turkey Is Done

Thanksgiving sucked, and I will be sitting Christmas out.

I had to threaten Tim within an inch of a divorce decree to get him to come with me, and he only caved under the pressure of these heavy reminders: he refused to go with me to the police station to get Cory's affects, he refused to go to the first wedding I attended after her death, he was not present when Jake and I put the fifteen year old family dog to sleep, and if I am going to to continue to do these sort of things alone, we don't have to live under the same roof to do so.  I can do it alone.  I did for four years.  Remember?

He was thrilled.  So at my sister's house it was a caravan of faces, some old and well-loved and others still changing under the planes of time.  All of them were happy.  There was teasing and silliness, and my soul just froze shut.  There would be no goofy coming from my direction.  I sat silently and waited for a reasonable time to leave, at which time, I made a bee line for the door.

Later that night, Tim yelled at me for being hateful.  He says I hate the kids who are alive, I hate the parents whose children are alive, I hate the young couple just starting at on paths Cory will never set a precious foot on.  He demanded that I turn all that hatred to the driver instead- blame the person at fault.

I don't hate everyone.  I am  more jealous that I could ever convey in a million years.  I feel cheated.  I  feel punished.  These feelings sit in my mouth and make it hard to have light hearted chatter.  In fact, at times such as Thursday in the light of all that gratitude, there's not a word I can think of to say.

Tim is wrong you know.  The hate comes right to me.  I was her legal guardian.  And if anywhere else, maybe to God, if there is such an all-knowing being who rescues certain people's children from the brink of death, but leaves mine to bleed out on the street.

For two days, all I've done is take more and more pills and decide dubiously that if I don't believe in God, who cares if I go to hell.  I already feel like I'm being burned alive every day.  Every single Cory-less day.