Meltdown

I had a meltdown on Sunday the 5th. 27 years ago that day was BJ's last full day of life. I worked 8-2 as usual. Busy, but not hectic, but got behind on my dictation, so didn't leave work until almost 3pm. Went to County Market and bought groceries. Came home and unloaded the groceries. Finished the laundry, read the newspaper. I had a roast in the CrockPot, so only had to make mashed potatoes and a vegatable. When supper was ready, Wayne was still watching a movie, which he couldn't put on hold, so he ate in the living room in front of the TV. I ate by myself at the dining room table. I was cleaning up the supper dishes, when Wayne hollered for me to clean him. It struck me wrong. I felt like smashing the measuring cup that was in my hand. I went in and did the task. Wayne could tell I was mad. I was mad. Not at him. I don't know what I was mad at. Mad that I had lost BJ. Mad that I had lost Joe. Mad that it was August again, that hateful month when so many that I loved had died. Mad that nobody ever calls me up to see how I am doing. Oh, I get phone calls. People wanting my help. Mad that my best friend Steve has died. Mad that I have breast cancer, and not knowing what will happen to me. Wayne thought I was just mad at him, starting getting upset that I was upset, because he can't do anything. But it wasn't about Wayne. He started crying. What about ME?