Mystery Solved

In my last blog entry, I mentioned that my friend Sandy and her kids were supposed to come over for Christmas, but never made it. When I tried to call her, the number I had for her was disconnected, and my email to her had not been answered. Well, the mystery is a mystery no more: Sandy just showed up here at our home at 4:30 a.m. She walked here, about three miles from the local jail. She said she'd been arrested for DUI because she had been asleep in her car on the side of the road.

They only held her for a few hours because there is really no room in the jail for a woman arrested on a non-violent charge. Sandy said she doesn't understand how they can get her for DUI when she was not driving, she was sleeping, and the keys were not in the ignition. I don't know how that all works either, but she said they took her jacket, and the cell was freezing cold. Then they let her go, in the middle of the night, without a ride, more than 30 miles from her home, and it was raining. She walked the 3 miles to our house in the rain in the wee hours of the morning.

Todd was awake when she arrived. He woke me up so I could see her, and now he is driving her home.

The reason she did not show up on Christmas was because she ran out of gas. Her boyfriend took her car and ran it out of gas and then stole $275.00 from her. I knew the guy was no good when I first met him, which was at a bar on Sandy's birthday about seven years ago. On that night, he was flirting with Sandy's 22 year old daughter, Raylene. I guess some women would find the guy attractive, though he is too short for my taste, and too muscle bound. He is old enough to be Raylene's father.

He later married Raylene, and has 2 children with her. They divorced about two years ago, and Raylene moved to Oklahoma.

So, anyway, just to recap: Sandy was dating her grandchildren's father, and he is the one who ran her out of gas and stole the money from her. It's a very convoluted story.

I feel responsible for Sandy's drinking problem. She only drank on social occasions until- it's been almost eight years ago now- it will be eight year on Valentine's Day.

It was Valentine's Day 2002 when her husband, Mike, committed suicide.

Mike was Todd's best friend. His death hit me harder than anybody's ever had before, or since. Maybe because it was so unexpected, so senseless, and left us with so many questions. I will tell you that story some day, but it is too early, and I really need some sleep, so I will just stick to why I feel responsible for Sandy's drinking problem.

Todd and I had just got our tax refund when Mike died, so I went shopping, and I took about three hundred dollars in alcohol over to Sandy's house on the day of the funeral. I was just so sad, I wanted to wash away all the pain with the alcohol. Sandy, her son, Hershell, Raylene, Todd and I, and a couple of Mike's other friends put a big dent in that alcohol that night. We sat around telling stories about Mike, remembering the good times.

When we left, I left behind all the alcohol. Well, Sandy never stopped drinking. When that ran out, she bought more, and now she drinks all the time. If I had not brought all the booze to her house that night, maybe she would not have started using it as a means of escape. I wish I could do something to help her stop drinking. Things just keep going from bad to worse for her. If she would stop drinking, maybe she would be able to start piecing things back together.

Below I am pasting a poem I wrote about Mike's death. It was published in Events Quarterly in 2004.

Rigor Mortis

How fixed is my mind?
How many times a week
-a day, do I see someone
out the corner of my eye
who moves like you?
With the same hair line,
the same brand of sunglasses,
or driving the same kind of truck?

How rigid is my brain?
How many times a month
-a year, do I forget
when I hear someone with
the same baritone laugh,
and I turn to greet you?

How many times,
will I forget
that I touched your arm
while you lied, unmoving
in your coffin,
and I expected your skin to feel
hard, like a mannequin,

but it wasn’t.
It felt like you-
only cold.

And how frozen is my heart?
How many times an hour,
-a minute,
will I be reminded of the fact
that you are gone,
and yet I am the one
who is motionless?