Pre-Anniversary Blues

Spent today feeling weepy, sad and exposed...dreading what's to come, even though it's not anything, really--it's not as if the actual devastation is going to start again tomorrow. It just feels that way.

Spent the evening on the couch, watching the Katrina anniversary coverage but not really wanting to. It brought it all back, and I sat on my couch and wept. My heart ached for the mothers who were just trying to protect their children. What would I do if I were in a similar situation with Emmeline? It made me sick just thinking about it.

Happy Katrinaversary.

One Year Ago Today....

...I spent the last full day in my home. I didn't know it then, that it was the last day.

One year ago today, my husband and I each went to work.

One year ago today, I talked to my dad on the phone--he mentioned that they'd probably have bad weather that weekend, due to a piddly little Category 1 storm, Hurricane Katrina. It had made landfall over Miami the previous day and was forecast to turn around, head back over Florida, and cause minimal problems on the north Florida/south Georgia coast that weekend.

Lower Ninth Ward, One Year Later

When the Levees Broke

Watch it. That's all I can say. Oh, and Barbara Bush? Like Phyllis said, call me. Let's chat.

Insomnia

I lie awake at night, willing sleep to come. I try all of the tricks I can think of--counting sheep, counting backwards from 100 to 1, singing songs in my head. Nothing works. The thoughts come, unbidden and unwelcome. I don't want to think. I want to sleep.

I lie awake at night, looking at the clock. I think of how many hours worth of sleep I'll get, if I fall asleep...NOW. It doesn't work. My mind has its own plans, all of which include rehashing the past.

Thoughts come. Thoughts that I don't want. Memories of things that are gone. Memories of things that hit me like a punch in the stomach. I feel sick. I pull my pillow over my head, trying to banish the thoughts, the memories. But they won't leave.

My past is gone but for memories. All of the tangible parts of my past, all of the material things that we hang on to that prove we were there, are gone. They shouldn't matter. Why do they matter so much to me? Why does it hurt so badly to know that I will never again see those parts of me?

A yearbook. A photo. A letter. A memento. A souvenir. They don't matter, I tell myself. But they do matter--at least to me. And sometimes, their loss is palpable.

I still have me. I still have my family.

But I lie awake at night, thinking....

18 Days Away...

It's fast approaching, the one-year anniversary. For a while, the date we dreaded was June 1st--the official start of hurricane season. I know many of us felt a bit queasy this spring as that date approached.

And now it's nervous anticipation of the big one, August 29th. At least we no longer have to cringe at the thought of a comedy night and fireworks, ridiculous and fortunately now-abandoned anniversary ideas put forth by our idiot mayor and his staff. Why in the world would anyone want to mark the anniversary of the deaths of over 1,500 people with fireworks? The mind boggles.

We may, however, have to cringe at the coverage we see of ourselves on the national news. The media, surprisingly, got it mostly right during our first post-K Mardi Gras. Let's hope they do the same for the anniversary. But, of course, the cries of Katrina fatigue from uncharitable people in other parts of the country will begin anew....

I don't know how I'll spend August 29th. I already have an aversion to that date anyway, as it was my brother Charles' birthday. He died in 2001, so every August 29th since then has been spent worrying about my parents and thinking about Charles.

This year, we'll all be grieving. Thank god there won't be fireworks.