Reflections

March 18th marked my one year blogiversary.
Happy Blogiversary to ME!
Yeah, yeah .... yippee fucking skippy, right?

I know too that I have been very much absent form Blogville.
I'm not so full of myself as to think that anyone missed me, but you did, right?!
I've missed y'all.
I've missed writing.

There's many reasons why I've been absent.
Mostly, there has just been way too many men running around here, and I can't kill any of them.
Seriously.
My Dad was here for a good portion of the month. Enuff said.
The Common Law has also been at home (work slowed down). Again, enuff said.
The Boy is just, well, I'm not sure what his problem is, but he better find a way to remove his head from his ass and start using the grey matter before it all shrivels up and dies! Either that, or i'm just gonne drop kick his monkey-ass to a distant planet.
Poot is almost a year old now, and has become Satan's Spawn.
He's teething so bad that he has left bruises on my arms, legs and yes toes from where he thinks I am a suitable chew toy.
He's also crawling/walking and deciding that he needs to test me every hour or so as to what he's allowed to play with and what he can't.
Hard headed little turd that he is just doesn't quite understand "NO!".
He must get that from his Daddy.

I need a vacation.


Anywho, for those of you that haven't been with me the past year, it has been a year filled with much loss.
My very first post was written about my best friend, Beki.
She died 3 days previous to my writing about her.
It's been a year now, and I miss her horribly.
I'm going back to that very first post.
The story, tragically, did not end there.

What I didn't include in the original post was that she died in the hospital.
Alone.
She had been in and out of hospitals so many times, I was never shocked to hear she was back in.
It saddens me that she was alone.
It shames me that I was unable to visit her before she died.
I have guilt.

Beki also died under "suspicious" conditions.
She had needle marks on her, and she had empty syringes in bed with her.
Officially, her cause of death was an overdose of oxycontin.
How that happens in a fucking hospital is beyond comprehension.
What has followed for almost a year, has been the investigation into her death.
I can discuss it now.
I am no longer a suspect.
Yes, I was questioned.
Yes, I was surveiled.
Why?
Well, that story is a bit complicated.
Long story short, a mutual "friend" of ours told police investigators that she was certain that I was screwing Beki's husband.
Had been for awhile too.
In fact, she even hinted to police investigators that my baby may have been fathered by someone other than The Common Law.
Ridiculous?
Absurd?
Absolutely.
But the police didn't think so.

It has been a hellacious year.
Beki's son has not had an easy time of it.
He and my son were very close.
They went to the same school.
Beki watched my son after school while I was at work.
He & my son were best friends.
This boy lost his mother, and then his best friend; my son.
You may be asking yourself, "why?".
Lord knows I have asked, even though I know why.

Mine & Beki's "mutual friend" is the answer.
A long time ago, all of us were friends.
Very close friends.
Our "friend" had (s) many insecurities, and some psychiatric issues.
I was aware of them.
I made sure that I was never alone with her husband, I was careful how I dealt with her and her children.
Because honestly? No one knew when she would snap, or what would set her off.
Not even her husband.
So, after the birth of her 2nd child, our "friend" had severe post-partum depression.
Beki and I did what we could to help her, but eventually, our "friend" ended up pushing everyone out of her life.
In February 2004, our "friend" severed all ties with Beki.
The reasons are really too petty and pathetic to get into.
All I know is it hurt Beki beyond words.
They had known eachother since high school, and Beki couldn't understand what had happened.
Honestly, I never understood it, and I still don't.
What I do know is the effect it had on Beki.
For that alone, I will never forgive our "friend".

Now, during this time, I had started working with our "friend" as a sub-contractor for her business.
I saw her daily.
It was difficult to say the least.
Our business relationship and our friendship was deteriorating rather quickly.
In May 2004, she started accusing me of all sorts of things.
I wasn't working enough, I was overbilling, at one point she accused me of stealing her new cell phone for myself.
Etc, etc.
It was a daily nightmare.
Now, I was also managing a small dry cleaning store while working with her.
Not very exciting, but it helped pay the bills.
One night in June, she called the store screaming.
Apparently, after I had finished working at her house in the morning, "someone" ransacked her bathroom and stole some prescription medication from her medicine cabinet.
Apparently, that "someone" HAD to be me.
Naturally.
I went over after I closed the store and tried to talk to her, and explain that when I left, all was as it should be.
The only person in the house when I left was her nephew.
I had no earthly idea of what the hell happened.
Come to find out, her nephew did the ransacking and pilfering that I was accused of.
No apology.
Nothing.
I quit.
The friendship, and the job.

In the summer of '04, Beki & family moved from Central Florida to the West Coast.
I was unable to visit Beki after they moved.
I was working 7/12+ for the Government after Mother Nature decided to remind us here in Central Florida that we are NOT safe from hurricanes.
(To prove her point, she sent 4 of them bitches our way.)
I was also pregnant.
VERY pregnant!
Driving over to the coast was not an option.
One that I regret.

After Beki died, there was no funeral.
She was cremated as soon as the autopsy was completed.
It was what she wanted.

However, the question of her overdose is still a mystery.
At first, it was rumored that she had taken her own life.
But I knew Beki. She wouldn't do that.
She was Catholic, and very religious/spiritual. She knew it would be a sin.
I also knew that her husband wouldn't have done anything to her either.
He loved her more than anything, and he was working gawdawful hours to keep a roof over their heads.
I know I didn't do it.

So, the question remains, how did my friend, my sister, my angel, die of an overdose inside of a hospital?