I wasn't expecting any sort of personal catharsis while I was watching late-night reruns of "Intervention" (new to me, however, as I am too cheap to spring for "fancy" cable).
I was watching one about "Sarah", a MN girl who lost her home, car, husband & daughter to meth. Though the tragedy of the situation wasn't lost on me, I was starting to fall asleep nonetheless.
...she (Sarah) met her grandmother in a local hotel, poolside, to discuss the grandmother's concerns about little Sarah's meth habit and it's consequences. As I was watching, I kept thinking, "Hey, this hotel looks familiar- where do I know it from??"
A few "I'm sorry's" between the ladies later, and it hit me. Like a ton of bricks.
That hotel pool area was the last time I saw my Mother alive in 1991. She and my Dad were in town for family stuff & shopping, and because I was so gosh darned "busy" with my 20 year-old life full of UN Summits and such, this was the only time I could see them, allegedly. Less than 2 weeks later she would be dead from a massive heart attack.
The second I realized this, my "hey I'm staying up late because I can!!!" night turned into "Hey, I forgot how fucking hard this is to remember this shit." And...then I was (and am) bawling like a fucking baby.
I hate when this sneaks up on me, and I hate when I remember what an ungrateful turd I was.
I don't need or want sympathy here, I mostly just wanted to vent how this moment, this...bit I forgot, snuck up on me and reminded me how much and how little things have changed since that warm, sunny afternoon at a hotel in Bloomington, MN.
Count your blessings, monkeys. Then hug them and kiss them and smother them in that special way only people who are related can smother one another.