February 14, 2033

Dear Stupid Journal.

(I just noticed it's Valentine's Day. Well that delightfully sucks.) it's cold and dreary out matching my cold and dreary heart.

Mom died 2 weeks ago. I'm writing because Pastor Davy insisted, oh and then there's the little thing about the court order...

On my last birthday my mother diplomatically told me my passionate nature will always be my blessing and my curse. I have a lot of feelings--too many feelings! Sure I wanna help the poor and the oppressed blah, blah blah... but if you take my favorite coffee mug, and leave it to grow mold in the back of your crappy Honda--Amy! I will explode. Help me Jesus. Wait... You're not even listening... I may as well be talking to the dust encrusted ceiling fan.

Truly... I'm sick of being me. I wish I could be composed like my sister Meg. She's got everything going for her. She's patient. She's beautiful. She's just like mom--cool, calm and collected. I'm crazy, combustible and love to throw caution to the wind!

On the day my mom died I took a crowbar and smashed the windshield of Dr. Dumb Ass's car.  Then when I got home I broke every glass in the cabinet. It felt so good! SLAM! CRASH! A jagged piece of glass sliced my finger. I let myself feel the pain. I squeezed my finger watching the right red blood drip then swirl down the white porcelain sink. I focused on the blood instead of the aching hole in my heart. It's still there... it grows, it's consuming me. I wish I felt nothing. Amy jokes I'm a sociopath. If only I were a real sociopath--you know the brilliant kind who have no feelings whatsoever?

When I picked up Grandma's delicate China my cloyingly sweet sister Beth gently held my wrist and said, "No don't... Mom promised this set to me." Then she lovingly replaced the yellow rosebud platter back in its place on the antique buffet. "Jo, you need to learn to control your temper. Maybe go and work on one of your stories?" Yes I write stories... rants mostly.  Someday I hope my rants will turn into a best selling novel. An average girl can dream can't she?

Beth was right. I'm angry. I'm still VERY angry. And soon I'll probably have to pick up trash on the side of  Sunrise Highway because of it.  Why did my mother have to die? It's so pointless! She went into the hospital for a routine procedure.  A freaking tonsillectomy for goodness sake!! Her biggest concern was having mango Hagen Daz ice cream waiting for her when she came home.  The incompetent doctor told us she wouldn't need to stay overnight. Getting her tonsils out at her age was rare, and it came with limited risks, but it needed to be done. She had strep so many times the antibiotics were no longer working.

There should be no complications... I've done this procedure hundreds of times.

A few days after she got home she had difficulty breathing. Doctor Dumb Ass wasn't too concerned (His real name is Dr.Who. Can you believe it? Like the guy in the scifi show. He's a joke!) Well Dr. What's His Face just prescribed her some stronger antibiotics. (I'm glad I hurt your precious Porsche! With those vanity plates: Dr Who Cares. Yeah that's right! Who cares? You certainly didn't.) "Drink plenty of fluids!" was his big solution. A week later Mom was admitted into the Good Samaritan hospital with late stage pneumonia. They put her on a ventilator which led to my, otherwise healthy, mother's demise. 10 days after getting her tonsils out she died of organ failure. What healthy woman dies of organ failure at 46?

I dispise injustice and hate stupid people. It's the way I am. I'm SOOOO mad at fake God for taking my real mom. I haven't spoken to fake God since. Mother Mary goes into the hospital as a healthy woman and ends up dead? My mom the saint? Okay so she wasn't a saint but she came pretty damn close in my book. I never saw her angry. Even the time daddy poured straight bleach on her red outdoor cushions she took a deep breath, put on her pink Sketchers and rushed out the front door. By the time she came back from her prayer walk she was calm and asked "Who's up for Chicken Parm?" Sometimes she'd be gone for hours though. I guess the length of her walks depended upon how annoying her family happened to be on any particular day.

My befuddled dad seems more lost than usual right now. He's a fixer. A man's man. He can fix anything but as far as his emotions or taking a hint he's clueless (like 99% of men.) He never remembers our birthdays (or even Christmas for that matter.) But if we break down in the middle of the night he's there for us. One time my car's engine seized in the center lane on The Long Island Expressway--at rush hour. I rang my dad at two o'clock in the morning and he was there in less than 20 minutes. Yeah I guess that's way better than remembering I was born on Christmas Eve. (Not hard to remember Dad.)  Like I said Dad can fix anything. But he can't fix this. Mom is dead and it's killing him. She died so quickly he didn't even have time to come up with solutions to make her better. He woulda invented something. I've never seen him cry before. I caught him the other night sobbing into my mom's favorite pink quilted pillow. Her grammy made it for her. FREAK!!!!! My mom will never be a grandma or see me in my black Wedding dress.... (She hated that I said I'd wear all black!)   Honestly I'm never getting married anyway. I'm off guys for good. They're all testosterone filled idiots.

Jo

My mom drummed the character Jo into me from as early as I can remember. "Jo is so independent. Jo became an accomplished writer and took care of herself. She didn't need a man to provide for her. She provided for herself." Actually Jo married some old dude at the end of the story, mom. Why'd you always leave that part out? Why did the author cave at the end?

Did my mom think I was too tall and gangly to score a husband or did she really see all that potential in me?

"Oh Jo," she would gush, "You are special! One of a kind. No you're not classically beautiful--you're better! You're unique!"

By the way I'm still mad at the man upstairs. (I suppose God's a man? Who knows? It's like a man to give me the silent treatment.)  Welp apparently he has grounded the entire world. We have been hyper-quarantined. It's like what happened ten years ago. Only the new Powers That Be refer to the former government yokels as wimps who couldn't stop a plague if their lives depended on it. Apparently it did cuz all those old guys who were in office are dead. Everyone over 50 died. The Supreme Court justices--dead. 

Back to me (I sound like my little sister, Amy)  Ugh mom... why did you call me unique? Every girl wants to be pretty.

She'd say, "You're not like other girls your age. All they care about is makeup and boys! You're gonna be someone! Don't merely be someones'.

That did stick with me. I do wanna be someone and never be owned by anyone--a man--or especially THE MAN. It's still a man's world. Feminism has risen with a vengence. The "Me Too" movement from a decade ago has turned into "All Men Must Die." After Ebstein, Clinton and hundreds of other perverts were exposed, us women have had it with men. I guess I rant about all this stuff too much. So much that  Amy asked me if I were gay. Rude! I'm not but I don't date. Dating is so barbaric. Can I buy you dinner and then... Sickening.

I'm focused.

I'm stalling.

I know there's a family meeting and it's gonna be horrible. Meg and Beth will cry. Amy will whine and dad will speak slowly and methodically.

They can wait.