More serious moving and schlepping in Santa Cruz, the date draws near for imminent tenancy. The first stab at renovation starts on Monday, and isn't going to cost nearly as much as i'd anticipated. I am starting to get a little tense about money, though. I'm also afraid that the contractor is going to rip up the floorboards to find thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of damage lurking under the house. Adventures in spending!
While I was going through some papers and photographs (the most bittersweet part of moving everything, so far), Archie came in holding a notebook, looking all concerned, asking "Hey, have you seen this?" I had, it was a notebook that my mother bought when she visited me in San Francisco, a few months before she died. It had some recipes in it, and a few stabs at poetry, though i'd only leafed through it. He opened it to a page further in to reveal a letter she had written to me, but never sent. It was dated July 16, when she was headed home on Caltrain from her last visit to see me. She was having a really hard time walking anywhere, she kept losing her breath but tried to keep up appearances for some reason. I was concerned, but she kept reassuring me that she was fine. Anyhow, the letter was her only attempt at telling me how sick she was:
- I am much sicker than I was letting on -- not that I was keeping you in the dark but because I live my life in a state of detachment and denial -- otherwise I'd never do anything -- and you know how I love to be doing doing doing.
If I get better enough -- one day we must explore the thrift shops and etc on El Camino Real between RW City and Milbrae --
OK -- if I don't -- if I crap out and die, there's some stuff you need to know. Also -- some people who will help you know it.
She goes on to list a whole lot of practical advice and things I should do, and I guess it's a happy accident that i've essentially done everything in the letter without the benefit of having read it before now. It's weird, it's a little bit of closure. I'm still confused and angry, I feel like I didn't have a chance to say goodbye, but I know how torn up she must have been inside, how she wanted to let me know, but didn't want me to worry. She must have been so scared.
Another new development, i'm on antidepressants. It's only been a few days, and i'm still taking 5-HTP, which peps up my mood a bit. I should have probably gotten on antidepressants months ago, really. It's a temporary fix. I need to be able to function right now, and being deeply depressed kind of seriously inhibits my daily functioning. Eh.
I had some tea yesterday that costs $144.00 a pound. Crazy. It's good tea though, with rose petals in it