Octobers are rough. Mind you, they weren't always that way. I mean, what's not to love? My birthday falls in October, as does Halloween, the air is finally cooling off, even here in Florida, the holidays are right around the corner, and the kids have finally settled into their school routines to start bickering about the homework.
But then, there's the rest of it: six years ago today, Paul, the love of my life, died. There, I said it. Also, my step-mom died in October, too, two years after Paul. Phyllis and I used to kid over the phone that we must be doing something wrong, since we got along so well.
Paul's death was the first in a string of deaths - the second, if you count Osha - and Phyllis was the last.
Two years ago, I won a lawsuit against those responsible for Paul's death, and got enough money that should have been life-changing, and it was, for a while. Even last year, there was still enough money left to at least ease through an otherwise rough month, between the anniversary of Paul's death and a cancer scare.
But this year, things are a little tight. It could be worse, I suppose: I'm working on a documentary, am trying to build a small business, things should pick up.
But sometimes, it's hard to remember that things are picking up when the anniversary comes up.
Tomorrow should be better...
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