Friday, May 26, 2017

What the Unimaginable Fuck

Today is the one-year anniversary of the day I took Clark to the airport to move back to Dallas ("temporarily"--that was the euphemism we used, to make it easier to manage; I planned to pick him up Labor Day weekend, which would have been the 11-year anniversary of his first visit to Portland). At 8:30 p.m. he collapsed in the kitchen. I almost cancelled his flight.

At 5 a.m. Sunday morning I got a message from his sister-in-law that he was in worse shape than they expected. The message seemed vaguely accusatory but whatever. I've been treated far worse by some of his family. If you don't listen to someone when they explain how shitty things are, you're likely to be really surprised.

I went through something similar, talking to him during a drive between my mom's and my dad's earlier that spring. Some pretty frank talk about how the cancer was expected to play out for him. I knew it, or at least I suspected most of it. But unadorned with optimism or hope, it had a weight to it.

Despite our plans, we were rushing when we got to the airport. Portland closes one of its 2 security checkpoints around 10 p.m. They close the one close to the gate for the PDX to DFW red eye, so we'd get a wheel chair (sometimes with an official person, but in my time of impatience I just grabbed one and pushed him). The airline would issue me a pass to accompany him to the gate, but my TSA Pre didn't help me or him.

The last time through they acted like no one had ever traveled with a catheter before. Fuckers.

Once through we had to hurry back the width of the airport and then head down to the A terminals. He was concerned I was going to have a coronary as we rushed. They were boarding when we got to the gate. Early boarding for people who need extra time, and he needed extra time.

There was no time to dwell on goodbye. That may have saved us both from a big scene. Plus it was only temporary.

So I'm wistful today, considering Portland as this place of myth. A place that made me so happy and then made Clark so happy, but that now feels like a place that's tainted. Within the liberal mecca of Portland in the Bizarro universe of President Trump, 3 men were stabbed, 2 fatally, on their Friday afternoon commute home. They were coming to the defense of 2 women, assumed to be of Middle Eastern descent, whom the (alleged) attacker was verbally attacking.
"Get off the bus, and get out of the country because you don’t pay taxes here!" 
He said he doesn’t like Muslims because they’re criminals.

Okay, first, they weren't even on the bus. Dumbass mother fucker.

Second, yeah, they probably do pay taxes here. Not that they need to pay taxes to avoid being attacked on the bus train.

And finally, to prove how much they are criminals, he killed 2 and wounded a third. Well done dude.

Fuck.

I don't even know what to do with this shit. I'm not helping with this, but I wanted to remember Clark's departure while I think of it. The attack thing, fuck, I don't know how to deal with this shit.

Here's something that always made me and Clark laugh. Let's laugh for a minute...

1 comment:

Erin Leedy said...

I love you. And I'm sorry that you didn't have the intended reunion with Clark. And the train thing is so terrible I can't even think about it. But I am really glad that Clark let you keep all of his dogs. :)