Postcards of Grief

Mourning is a process.

Comments on breast cancer by proxy, written by a woman coping with the loss of her mother.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004


It's here. It's today.

I dropped Brooke off at work at 6:30 and made it to the polling place at 6:40. There was already a line, so I joined it. It was dark, cold, and rainy. It still is cold and rainy, but not nearly as dark.

We call this "sunrise."

I chatted it up with my neighbors. Not people I know, mind you, but my neighbors nonetheless. We all live within a half mile or so of one another. One is in small construction and built one of the huge houses off my street. Indoor pool, even. Very huge, and quite hard to see from the road. So I chatted with him and asked for a recommendation for a house painter. He mentioned one I’ve heard of, and we chatted some more.

I made it inside shortly after 7:00 and filled out my voter application and got my ballot. When I got back behind the voting table, I suddenly had to pee really, really badly. I had to rush through my ballot, careful to avoid the Republicans, to vote YES on the millages and NO on the proposals, and I narrowly missed peeing on myself before I gathered up my stuff and made to turn in my ballot. Once the machine sucked up my ballot and I grabbed a sticker, I left the building to find the MoveOn.org volunteer who was promised to by standing at the flagpole wearing a red hat. At 7:20, I was the first one to report to him. He hugged me. I drove off.

Yesterday afternoon, my father had called me at work to ask about whether one should overturn a cake with the words “upside” and “down” in the name, even if the recipe doesn’t call for it. I confirmed his suspicions and proceeded to give him a tutorial on frosting. In the end, he went to the grocery for it, but I’d like to think he learned something. I called him back last night to hear how the cake story ended and discuss my mortgage and equity.

My father and I rarely discuss politics. I adore my father, but we have different priorities. I know that I didn’t want to know for whom he planned to vote for President. There’s only one right answer to that question, and if it’s not the right answer, I don’t want to know. It’s for the best. I’m certain he’s voting against the gay marriage ban, but I never did ask.


At 7:29 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I live in England, but I am abosolutely fascinated about this US election. It has so many implications for the UK and the rest of Europe. I've been up all night watching it unfold. I almost wish I WAS American so I could vote and make my statement against Bush. But sadly, it looks like he is here to stay. Which is the greatest shame of this century.
But, well done for getting your vote in without peeing yourself !!!

At 8:03 AM, Blogger Emilin said...

Something to be proud of, isn't it? Not wetting myself, that is. Bush? Not so much.


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