Crying, coffee and condoms

Well, friends. This has truly been one of the toughest weeks of my life. Not only was I beaten, raped and robbed from two kids I sincerely cared about, but…


Yesterday, my long time friend BULL passed on at the age of 75. I don’t even know what to write now. All words have left me.


Was he important to me? Yes. For the past 15 years he’s been extremely important to me. We didn’t date but about half of those years, but still, something GREAT has been lost in my life. 


BULL was an asshole. An extremely cheerful and friendly dickhead. He was old, and he made damn sure everyone knew it. He just killed me everytime he called me “Witch” playfully in public. Just loud enough so everyone nearby could overhear. Of course, I always knew what he meant. It would piss me off, and he would chuckle.


It was never a good relationship, and for the past 7 years, we didn’t date at all. But, there was always a sense of security knowing he was there. Not just financially. I knew if something happened with me or my kids, he would help. Well, if it was my babies… he ALWAYS helped.


My children will suffer greatly, emotionally and financially. He may not have been throwing love and generosity my way all the time, but my kids benefited to no end. He treated them like they were his own. 


My youngest was so attached to him that he called him PaPaw instead of trying to always explain his relationship to the old man. They were buddies. The best of. Andy actually stayed with him almost every weekend. And guess what that meant for me…


VISITATION!!


My youngest son’s father was just a booty call. A very, very, very short booty call. After spending 30 seconds in his bed, and an hour of enjoying his mother’s (yes, he even lives at home) PERSONAL shower sprayer, Andrew was conceived. Due to many different reasons, BULL was the only one who would let me see my child.


BULL and I were actually on the outs most of the time. But he took to Andy from day one. He was calling him his buddy since before he could coo. Andy recognized his big red truck from a distance before he could talk. Andy even had his own room at BULL’s. You couldn’t even get onto the laptop without asking Andy for the password. BULL’S LAPTOP! For completely fucked up reasons, I will not be allowed to comfort my son as he cries over the only friend he’s known since birth.

 

I recall a very long time ago, Bull and I and the kids were grocery shopping on the way to his house to wash some clothes. The check-out lady behind the register asked my 5 year old daughter, “Isn’t your grandpa nice for buying you so many treats.” (And he did. He spoiled them youngins.) My daughter replied, “That’s not my grandpa. That’s my mom’s boyfriend.” I will never forget that woman’s face.


Well… my eyes are red and swollen. No beating by pussies caused this. My heart hurts for things I cannot change, and people I am unable to resurrect from the dead. I miss him terribly, but I’d probably cuss him where he stood were he never to have left. We were like an old married couple, always bantering back and forth. My heart is broken.


So…


I have no life lessons today. I have no condolences for friends.

I have no children to soothe.

I have no teddy bear to weep into (Spaz is asleep).

I have no words…


But I have coffee and condoms. Today should be a good day. (Gritting teeth behind pursed lips.) So, let’s make some money!!!


In memory of Ronald (BULL) Woolsey

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2 Replies to “Crying, coffee and condoms”

  1. I’m sorry for your loss and the shit deal with your youngest and visitation. Sounds like a day one can only hope to hold on and survive. Not that I think sending positive thoughts does anything … but well, you have some coming to you anyway from this quarter.

    Liked by 1 person

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