Not A Real Post

This isn't a real post. It's nothing.

It occurred to me as I poured my second vodka-tonic of the afternoon, that after my last six months - nephew's suicide, sister unexpectedly dropping dead, and... well, that's enough, I think! - I'm entitled to a little self-medication. Bring on the booze!

Aside from that (I wasn't exactly a teetotaler before), I'm emerging from the fog... exactly one month from the day my sister died. Dropped dead. I like that phrase, because it's true. And it conveys the surprise that accompanied her death.

After a month of numb, I feel like rejoining the blogosphere. 
I might revamp my blog though. Give it a focus. 
Personal bull-crap only takes me so far. 

Especially when the grim reaper takes over.
Two days ago, Brett was teaching and sent me a message from his office to check in with his brother. He'd received a message from someone who was an undertaker in the town they grew up in. My heart was in my throat. Dear God, NO! Brett's brother said nothing was up that he knew of, and that that guy who used to be an undertaker, was now a banker. Turns out, he just wanted to ask about the Coronavirus from someone in the region. (We're fine.)

The grim reaper is hovering over my life now, just laughing. 
I FLIP YOU THE VIRTUAL BIRD, YOU BASTARD!

Seriously though, I've finally reached out to my remaining family members, just checking in. I've decided to start writing letters. Not real letters, because I no longer trust international postal services, but through email. At least to my mom. So I reached out to her.

I reached out to my brother to see how he's doing as the eldest sibling.

I reached out to my living sister, who's not too chatty. I wonder how she's doing, because she's the one who has a son the same age as my nephew who took his own life last fall. Our sister's death weighed on her, as she took on the "big sister" mantle and rushed out to Michigan to help as soon as she heard.

I reached out to my niece, who just lost her mother, and is going bridal shopping this coming weekend. The heart just breaks. (My living sister was already going to help with dress-shopping. She has awesome fashion sense.)

Last week, I actually had quite a healing conversation unexpectedly. Brett and I were out and ran into another friend. I was able to simply talk about what happened and the events of our week in the US, and how it affected me and the others I saw. It was good. I need to write that stuff down.

In fact, I think I'll go find a spot to sit and write about it.
Told you this post was nothing.