Depressing Weekend

Friday morning I was on my way to work and I got a text message from my high school friend Dave. All it said was, "Good morning. Did anyone call you about Darin yet?" I texted back, "No, was someone supposed to?" About 5 seconds later he called and told me that our friend Darin had killed himself, he didn't know why and he'd let me know when the services would be. That was not how I wanted to start my Friday morning. Darin was two years younger than me and in the Drama club with me, Kim, Dave and lots of our other friends. He was a member of my church and went on a mission to South Carolina after high school. What makes me feel bad is that I'd completely lost track of this guy. I'd kept pretty good tabs on my other friends. Not that I talk to them or see them very often but I at least pretty much know what they're doing for a living, who got married, who had kids, stuff like that. I'd seen Darin a few times over the years but never made an effort to keep in touch, even though he was a super nice guy, a member of my church and was one of those people who could make you almost wet yourself from laughing so hard. The last time I saw him was a few years ago when I ran into him at church. We said hi, I introduced my husband and kids and he gave me a big hug. Sucky friend that I am, I didn't ask how he was doing, what he was doing with his life, where he was living or anything. I didn't even suggest getting together and catching up sometime. I do that with my all my other friends when I accidentally run into them, even though we usually don't end up finding the time to actually get together. But that time I didn't even think of it. You always think you're going to have another chance.

Anyway, I felt compelled to drive out to San Diego for the service. We left Sunday morning, drove out, had dinner with Dave and his girlfriend Sunni and spent the night at my parent's house. We went to the service on Monday morning and saw lots of old friends I hadn't seen in forever. Since I'd heard the news on Friday, I'd been pretty shocked but I hadn't cried or anything. When I got there and saw all the pictures they had up, I completely lost it. You wouldn't think you'd cry for someone you weren't that close to and you hadn't seen in years but it was just so sad, and he was one of those people I really, genuinely liked. I couldn't bring myself to go in the room where they were having the viewing. He was alive the last time I saw him and I'd like to keep it that way. The whole service was a total tear-fest. Our friend Che got up and told some good stories. Then they had the long, boring religious part. Afterwards a few people were getting together to hang out and talk but I had to skip out and drive back to Arizona.

While we were on our way home, we got a phone call from Sean's mom. She wanted us to talk to his dad and convince him to go to the hospital because he'd apparently had a stroke that morning. When he woke up that morning, he was numb on one side and couldn't walk. Why he didn't call an ambulence then, I have no idea. So we yelled at him to get his ass to the hospital and he kept saying that it was no big deal, he was fine and that he'd go to the doctor in the morning. We told him that we already went to one funeral today and we didn't want to go to another one for a very long time. We finally convinced him to call the advice nurse for his insurance company and that he'd follow whatever instructions they gave him. When we called back later, their neighbor (who's a doctor) was getting ready to take him to the emergency room. Sean's mom can't drive and just had gall bladder surgery last week and can barely walk so she stayed home. They ended up admitting him into the hospital, confirmed that he did indeed have a stroke and that his blood pressure and cholesterol are high and his diabetes is totally out of control (he claimed that he could control it with diet and that he didn't "really" have diabetes.) Sean might drive up to Colorado to take care of his parents if they decide to keep his dad in the hospital for any length of time. What bugs me is that Sean's parents aren't nearly panicked enough. You kind of need your brain and heart to live and most people who have a stroke aren't fine afterwards. I'm worried that Sean's dad won't take care of himself like he's supposed to (he doesn't exercise and eats garbage.) I really, really don't want them to have to move in with me because they won't take care of themselves.

Anyway, hopefully my next blog will be all sunshine and happiness.