Welp

Well here we are. It's been nine months since the day we found out - not even a whole year - but it is a whole lifetime ago. Nine months ago Rico walked out of our bedroom. I'd been napping on the couch. and he woke me up by telling me it was not carpal tunnel, or even a mild stroke. It was a brain tumor - and by the looks of it - a particularly nasty one. I remember the ice filling my veins, the way my heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds, the way I was paralyzed in one breathless position until he collapsed on top of me sobbing. And then the next second I inhaled and I was a new person. I had to be. "This is what is going to get me - it finally caught me - it finally did." He said it over and over as we cried in each other's arms. I did not tell him that it wouldn't, that he'd beat it - we don't lie to each other - we promised we'd never lie to each other. Instead I just said to him, "I will have you in my arms - no matter what." So I did. The whole ride. And now, now we are expected to move on. So we try. Today I threw out his expired coffee. Still can't throw out the lemonade bottle - baby steps. Today I gathered tax info; paid bills; tried to figure out what a compliance request was; realized that I can do grocery shopping without a full fledged panic attack and psychomotor agitation, but only if I go to the expensive grocery store. I can feel Rico following me, telling me that it's ok - that I need to do whatever keeps me sane, but also to buy the generic cream cheese because my god this place is a rip-off. Today Noah was a real teacher on his own for the first time. He's only been observing as a student teacher for four days, but desperate covid-times call for desperate covid-measures. His lead teacher was sick today, so today he was it. He came home for a quick snack and then headed to the theater to choreograph for a friend who is directing show. Today Kooka got a job - two in fact - of course she did. She's Rico's daughter. One of them is teaching dance - both kids are coming for my gig. Today Tiny did three of the 426 missing assignments that seem to rack up as a result of having your father die in the sixth grade. Blessedly her teachers are kind and don't hold it against her, but the stress is building up quickly. She goes to Tae Kwon Do to punch it out, and snuggles the dogs to calm back down. I am not sure what will become of my writing here. It used to be tales of our adventures, but now our adventures are different. I used to keep a different blog - one about my childhood story. I was saving it to write a book for my kids - it's tragic and funny and scary and happy - maybe I will post some of that here for them. Maybe there is no need - maybe they've lived enough to write their own. We love you all. Thanks for being with us.