In memory of the life, love and wit of Carol Versandi
A Bad Day
February 21, 2014
I'm having a bad day.
I don't have anything funny to say today.
No interesting story. No amusing anecdote.
This is a "warts and all" type of blog and today
is a bad one.
I miss my mother.
There's just no other way to say it.
I cry every single day.
Sometimes in the morning.
Sometimes at work.
Sometimes at night.
I try to stay strong and to keep my composure.
After all, that's what I'm supposed to do, right?
My mom used to say "You only get to be sad for one day after I die. One day and that's it. After that, I want you to think about me and smile".
But I can't do that. I'm sorry mom. I wish to God I could.
But I can't.
I can't smile.
I can't laugh.
All I can do is cry.
I miss her so much that I become crippled with sadness.
I'm surrounded by friends and family. People are showering me with love and kindness and support. Everywhere I go, people are bending over backwards to be there for me - no matter what I need.
But the truth is, I've never felt more alone in my life.
Utterly and completely alone.
I've never believed in psychics or mediums. I'm not sure if I even believe in the concept of an "after life". I never really gave it much thought until now.
The truth is I think people like John Edward and Theresa Caputo are some of the lowest forms of degenerate media slime that our "Reality" obsessed culture has produced. They are shameless ghouls that con their way into the wallets of the easiest of marks - the desperate and the grief stricken. I guess if you were so inclined, you could argue that they offer glipses of hope, but to me, they are greedy heartless frauds. Picking the bones of those who are at the very end of their emotional tether.
But I get it now. I really do.
I understand just how and why people flock to see charlatans like them.
Hoping. Waiting. Doing anything and everything they can.
Praying to hear from their loved one "on the other side".
I have become that person who is hoping and who is praying.
I want to believe that my mother is watching over me.
I want to believe that she's watching me as I type this right now.
Because then at least she would know how much I miss her.
How devastated I've been since she left.
How empty I am.
I could say that I love her and she would hear me.
I could tell her that I'm so sorry for any time I was short with her or I didn't give her the attention she needed. I could tell her I'm so sorry for not being there when she died.
Maybe she would hear me.
Maybe she would forgive me.
Maybe she would tell me that everything is going to be alright.