We hopped into the truck to make our way home around noon today. It was a quiet morning. We spent it sipping coffee and eating (I am so sick in my stomach right now) donuts with the agent who first showed us utopia and to whom I will be forever grateful. He wanted to see the new house so we called him and asked him over. During our chat he told us how his girlfriend was dying of cancer and how they had just taken what he believed would be their last trip together. I sat there listening while in the back of my head thinking to myself that I am not ready to hear about other people's suffering. The whole last year for my mom was really about silently suffering (which she did) and that is where the pain is for me. Even though mom never let on to how bad she felt it was obvious. One day she asked for a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. At the end she had left all the dough pieces in the bowl. She reluctantly admitted she was too exhausted to chew.
Driving in the rain up the causeway I was relieved to not have to hear about the agent's girlfriend. I feel for her. Maybe too much. And then we came upon this....
Our neighbor, who I call the sentry, had gone on a dump run while her husband, who did not feel well, slept in. The sentry had taken their new puppy on the errand and when she returned and tried to park in the roadside platform about their yard her brakes gave out and her car did not stop but instead rolled straight over the edge. She was bumped and bruised from the crash and burned from the airbag. The puppy had been tossed forward from the back seat but was fine. When I realized it was the sentry who had been in the car I almost fell to pieces. The sentry is my mother's age. I couldn't bare the thought of anything bad happening to her. If the sentry had been hurt in that accident... I just don't know what I would have done.
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