pull harder, mom

The bfe sent me two comic strips he'd spoken off in the past week or so. They were from the site xkcd.com (ask me some time what that means to me), a self-proclaimed webcomic of "romance, sarcasm, math, and language". Most of the time the sarcasm seems to be the most important focal point. That dominant aspect is what draws the bfe to it and pushes me away with both hands.
So, yesterday afternoon, while I was in class and my phone was flying, he sent the two comics to me, to lie in wait. One was really cool in a positive sense, encouraging folks to become organ donors. It likened body parts to reusable building blocks of construction-type toys. Like I said, pretty cool.
The second one, titled "Dark Flow", is aptly named.

That last panel is the killer, right?
Yes, most definitely.
So there I was, bereft and sobbing at 8 PM on a Monday night, missing Mama. As I told the bfe, "Sometimes, i am so very world-weary from missing my mother. Sometimes i handle the weight of the loss more easily."
All I knew for sure was this: going home to an empty house was not what I needed, was not a sane option.
No. That would pull my essence down, down, down, into a deep pit of sorrow. I was teetering on the edge, as it was, losing my balance along with my mind.
Sounds like time for a bfe to offer a comforting arm, a comforting shoulder, a comforting kitteh. But a thirteen-year-old boy is not hardly going to do so, is he?
No. By his own admission, he is more thirteen-year-old boy than he is man at the onset of his fourth decade. He reckons he might be out of his teen years by the time he hits 45.
We'll see. He just may be right.
But that thought brought me no solace.
I recalled that Brenda, the trivia-playing retired teacher, had said she and John (her gentle man) would habitually go to the CBP for dinner around 8 PM. That would be NOW. That would be good. I like her, and he gives nice, easy hugs, too.
Maybe they would be there. I would just park and get hold of myself a little, then go in and see if they were there. If not... well, if not, I don't know what I would do. Sit in the parking lot and bawl, maybe.
But they WERE there! Moreover, they greeted me enthusiastically, but not prying about my red-rimmed eyes or sensitive state. She mentioned that one of the regulars would not be there for trivia that night, as that regular was spending time with her mother at a theme park. When I started tearing up, the subject of mothers and daughters was dropped in favor of their upcoming trip to France and had I ever been there?
Nice. How very nice to know kind-hearted people with experience of the world. Truly.
So we dined together and talked of travels to Europe and the Elvis tribute artists and the parade last Saturday. Then others began arriving to the booth for the trivia game and we all talked and played and groaned about the wrong answers and celebrated our correct choices. We lost, but that was okay.
We were all together, all trying, each with our own strengths, none of us with much sports knowledge.
By the end of the game, I was almost right as rain. Hugs with those I'm close to, then off to home.
Just before I exit the parking lot, I get a message from my first niece: Are you home yet?
No, just leaving the Crystal Beer Parlor.
Drive safely.

And so I do, smiling that she had contacted me.
Smiling even more when I arrived home and the porch light was on.
And the mail was THROWN into the house!
"hahaha! mail thrown in my house!" I jubilantly texted to her.
"I fringed the porch light for you too" was her reply.
"You fringed it? you KNOW i like fringe!"
And now she and I have this new little inside joke.
And the world is brighter again.
And my tethers are holding.