So, where was I?
Figured I should post something, given the volume of correspondence I’ve received in the past couple of days. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to each individual blog comment as I usually do, but I know you understand. Please also know that I appreciate every one of them.
It’s been amazing, the comments and messages. People I know and love, and others whom I don’t know, but they wanted to reach out to me anyway. I guess this business of mourning lost loved ones is all too universal. And as Mija and Indy so eloquently stated in their respective blogs, today’s virtual communities offer new versions of succor. Instead of casseroles, we get emails. In lieu of flowers, we get tweets. We post pictures of our loved ones and share them with the world — I posted a photo of my mother on FetLife and got over 80 comments on it. The personal bubble of mourning expands to include our cyber friends and supporters.
I may not be able to feel real hugs, but I sense them. That means just as much.
ST came over Monday. No playing; he just sat and talked with me for nearly four hours. Such a dear friend he is.
I went to visit my cousin yesterday; I have not seen him in many years. You know, the one who grew up with my mother, and partnered with my dad in early TV writing. He will be 90 next month. It was an interesting couple of hours, as we talked. He shared a lot of detailed memories of both my parents, funny stories, etc. What a fascinating life he’s had. His age is beginning to take its toll; while he could remember so much, other things eluded him. For example, he recalled absolutely nothing of arranging my father’s memorial 14 years ago. And when he poured us both a glass of water from a pitcher, his hand shook badly and he spilled water all over the counter.
I hope he will stick around for a while. He is a distant figure in my life, but a prominent one at the same time. He is the one living soul who knew both my parents from way back when.
Side note: in the past few days, several friends have looked at my mother’s pictures and said, “You look like her.” I’m deeply flattered by this, but baffled. I was always under the impression that I looked just like my father. I don’t have my mother’s coloring, build or features. So yesterday, I asked my cousin, “Who do I look like, Mom or Dad?”
He didn’t even take a beat. With no hesitation, he looked into my face and said, “You look like your father.” Interesting. My mother was lovely. I’m still happy people think I resemble her somewhat.
Today, I got a message on Facebook, from another distant cousin on my mother’s side. It was a lovely note, saying she read my blog and wept. That she never had a grandmother (her grandmother was my mother’s sister, the one who offed herself in 1981), and my mom was the closest thing to a grandmother that she had. She recalled how Mom used to tell her to sit up straight, don’t eat so many potatoes, stay out of the sun, etc. Had to laugh at that. Mom told everyone what to do, not just me, bless her heart!
Then it hit me. Oy. She read my blog. She mentioned nothing of the elephant stampeding through the room. I took a deep breath and wrote back to her. I said she now knew of my alter ego, my not-so-secret secret life. That she was the first family member to know of it, and while I am not ashamed of who I am, I chose not to tell people whom I didn’t think would understand. I hope she will be discreet. If she is, she is. If not… oh well. People will think what they think. I know the truth and what the Erica Scott persona means to me.
I am eager to get back to feeling like myself. I want to catch up with blogs and FetLife posts. I want to snark and write pithy blogs again. And I need to get back on the job hunt.
Incidentally, just for the hell of it, I wrote to the company whose test I took, asking for an explanation of exactly how I failed their test. I didn’t expect to hear back, but lo and behold, I did! A very nice, detailed message, in fact. In the transcription portion of the test (in which I had to listen to a tape of several people talking in thick UK accents and write down every word), they allowed five errors. I made seven. Not in spelling, but I misheard things. A few words here and there, I couldn’t make out at all, no matter how many times I listened to them. They said that their work is UK-intensive and I need to be able to decipher that accent better. But that I did a good job overall and they had no doubt I could work with more American transcription.
What they didn’t know was, I’d never done a transcription job in my life. I just jumped in and tried it. So, that considered, I guess I did pretty well. 🙂
Life goes on. My computer is acting up and probably needs servicing. Always something, no? I’m going to head for the gym now. My mind may still be in a fog, but my body needs care and exercise, food and rest. Basics.
Thank you all, once again. I can’t fully express how much all your communication has meant to me. ♥ You’ve kept me from withdrawing into myself.