I need to compartmentalize my weekend. I want to paint it all with a wide brush and write that the entire thing was stressful. But that wouldn't be true.
Friday night was emotional ... finding that old letter. I've come to terms with it. Between having a really good conversation on the drive up north ... and doing a little research ... I found out that in the summer of 1970, postpartum depression wouldn't have been openly talked about. Depression of any kind was a stigma ... and so Valium and other "nerve pills" were often given freely to women. Doctors basically let an entire generation self-medicate. And, as I said the other night, I can't be angry considering this was a painful, private moment for my mother. Maybe someday I'll talk to her about it ... but not today.
Saturday was awesome. We drove up north to visit with Stoney's parents and celebrate Father's Day. It was a great visit and, while the guys went and picked up dinner, I had a nice talk with just his Mom. She's really easy to talk with ... and they're coming down for a cookout sometime this summer. She wants to meet my mother ... so now that's a thing. On Sunday, a couple that we're friends with said they wouldn't let their parents meet until the bridal shower. Brilliant idea ... where were you on Saturday?
Speaking of Sunday ... that was kind of the beginning of the hard part. We said goodbye to one of Stoney's good friends. His visitation was ... awesomely unique. He had a great sense of humor and was such a neat guy. He had an open bar ... at the visitation. The funeral home played the greatest hits of the Drive By Truckers ... and he wore, as his wife told us, a "highly inappropriate" t-shirt as his final request. She told us that he wrote everything into the will ... and had her sign it ... promising not to change a single thing.
We went home ... tired and a little weary. We found out the concert that we'd planned on going to was being streamed live ... so instead of watching the Game of Thrones finale, we listened to the concert ... and cried a little for the really great guy who would've loved to be listening with us.
This morning we woke up early for the funeral. By this point we're extra tired ... we've been going for three days straight with no breaks. On top of that, something was wrong with Stoney's eye. He'd known it the day before ... and thought maybe it was a stye ... it hadn't been too bad. But by this morning, it was swollen and the skin beneath his eye looked almost bruised.
So as if it weren't enough sitting at the funeral trying not to sob at the beautiful song this friend chose for his wife ... (Pause here for a second ... seriously, I know Stoney and I aren't married ... but he cannot ever do this to me. It was so beautiful ... but if I were our friend's wife, when I heard that song, I would've started crying and never stopped.) Un-pause ... if that weren't enough, Stoney was in pain. His eye wouldn't stop tearing up and he can't hardly open it at this point.
We left the reception afterwards early ... because he needed to go to Prompt Care. Prompt Care told him he had to leave and go immediately to their eye specialist. I was so scared sitting at the eye doctor. My aunt has had to go through several eye surgeries recently ... and I was terrified thinking he'd torn his retina or something.
No ... he has a bad corneal abrasion ... which is still worrisome. He had to keep his eyes closed today and put medicine in them. He's not going to work tomorrow ... and, after dinner, I came home so that he could sleep and relax without my alarm waking him in the morning or me keeping him up tonight in general.
I ... am ... tired. This was such a non-weekend. We need a weekend of nothing but binge watching Netflix and maybe grilling something ... or ordering a pizza ... I don't know. I'm exhausted and worried. I have a cute story about Tesla's "Love Song" ... and I also want the world to know about my own funeral plans ... which involve the song "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter. But not tonight ... I'm just too tired.
Hug your kids ... hug your loved ones ... you just never know.
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns
The stumbles and falls
Brought me here
Ben Folds - The Luckiest