Eff You, April!!

I hate the month of April. So did my mom. Everything bad that ever happened to our family happened in April. My brother drown on April 27, 1983, ten days after his 23rd birthday. On April 27th, 1995 my mom had congestive heart failure. April 26, 1996 she had it again. This time it was worse and was followed by a mild stroke that went undiagnosed for about a week despite me and my sister telling the hospital staff that something was just not right. We thought it was a stroke. She had gone blind and paralyzed on her left side. They said she was just on a lot of meds and weren't concerned. Idiots. Luckily her strength and sight came back eventually. When my sister was driving mom to OSF St. Francis hospital in Peoria towards the end of March 1999 my mom commented that April was coming up. "Oh I hate that fucking April." She died on April 6th, 1999.

For me every year when May 1st rolls around it's a lot like coming out of the basement after a bad storm. I sort of pat myself, check for bruises, scrapes and broken bones, do a head count of everyone and take a deep breath. Then I put two fingers in the air. "Fuck you April! I made it!!"