Wow. Note to self: never leave a diary written on your phone, without saving Draft, first.
This is a Follow-up to "Joy's Dead," written last Friday. When I wrote, while I was among those who "knew" that she'd died, I would have been overjoyed to write a follow up saying I'd been wrong, and that EMT's and doctors pulled her through.
That was not the case.
However, I did learn that her kids (teenaged daughter and 7 year old son, Jaden) are with family. We are waiting to learn whether we will be allowed to attend her memorial.
Last night's dinner was another rehash of events, emceed by The Bully, who has decided that people who went into the bathroom while Joy was in the handicapped stall (and apparently thought she was one of the women who sleep in the ladies' room from time to time) are responsible for Joy's death. "I wouldn't want their karma," said The Bully, repeatedly.
It always surprises me when The Bully calls on Karma - usually to inflict violence on someone she feels has harmed her in some way - because she's Muslim, and that and Karma don't really mesh. One day I will point that out to her, and that all her hardships were predestined a la Allah (per her Koran.) And then she'll call Karma down on me…
Anyway, I've realized how much stuff in PADS affects me, and I wish there were some way to see a psychiatrist, at least for awhile, to work these feelings out.
Of course, if I could afford a psychiatrist, I could have afforded head and neck x-rays, after The Attack of the Room Divider.
And if wishes were horses…
I'd like a Palomino, please.