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First, let's talk about the more fun thing: the Merchandising Virtual Holiday Happy Hour yesterday went on from 5 p.m. until ending, honestly kind of abruptly, at 6:30. I had a rather nice time, even though there's no question this one in particular would have been more fun had it been an in-person party, but I got a good 25 screenshots out of it; the full photo album, with a couple of additional shots of my gift bag, has 27 photos in it. That's a fair amount fewer than the 40 shots I got for the Office Holiday Happy Hour we had three weeks ago, but a) I did get an additional 8 screenshots of that first party after a smaller group stuck around after a bunch of people signed off, and last night's party didn't even offer the opportunity for that to happen; and b) there's a hell of a lot more people to get screenshots of in the entire office staff than just the 22 in Merchandising.

I think Darrell, the VP of Merchandising, must have been the technical Zoom "host," because it was almost immediately after he said "We want to be respectful of people's time" that we were all just logged out of the meeting. There was a separate "party host" brought in, clearly in response to the suggestion that some Zoom parties hire an entertainment host—what my department did, though, was ask a guy named Herschell, one of our PCC Cooks chefs, to come in and play host. We played a PCC trivia game that he moderated, but he clearly did not get as much information as I would have given him about where the questions came from: Eric had asked me for some trivia question suggestions, and I provided eight, all of which Herschell used, calling people by name to ask each question in turn. And he used my questions first, before moving on to others I had not heard before and did not generally know the answers to—but he called on me when he was still on my questions! Clearly he had not been told who wrote any of the questions, although, amusingly enough, I did have to say, "Well this is kind of funny because I wrote this question and I can't remember the answer!" Except it turns out I did; the question was which of our stores was largest in square footage in 2005, and it was Issaquah. I was pretty sure I was remembering that right, but not entirely positive.

The trivia game took up at least a good half hour or so of the first part of the party, and through most of the party Tracy P and I were chatting in a side window, as we often do during even regular work meetings we both happen to be on. She usually refuses to put on her camera because she doesn't think she's presentable, but she did here, and when I sent her my screenshot of her she was actually relatively happy with it.

I drank both the Cosmopolitan and the Margarita that had been provided in my gift bag, and damn, was it a good choice for me not to add any booze to them; I actually got a nice buzz going on just from those. I let Shobhit have the Old Fashioned, which he drank when he got home from work—literally within minutes of the party ending. I had thought maybe he could sit in for a bit and get a Social Review point, but, so much for that. No one else's family or spouse sat in either, come to think of it, which was kind of interesting. I suppose it is true that any time a department event like this happens, it's just us.

Anyway, I sure would have liked to hang out a while longer with a select few others who might have wanted to hang around, as I had with other office staff with the last Zoom party, but it was not to be. I didn't even have much chance to contribute to any conversation beyond my turn at the trivia game, partly because once again my microphone cut out, a common trend that is driving me fucking crazy. It never happens to anyone else! I need to figure out why it keeps happening.

After the party, I had no energy to help with chopping vegetables for dinner, so Shobhit and I both just reheated leftovers for dinner. We watched a single episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and no more than that, because Shobhit fell asleep. So, I went on and started getting ready for bed.

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— चार हजार आठ सौ पचासी —

I was in bed and sleeping earlier than usual, partly because Shobhit also came to bed at 9:45. So, I had been in bed and in a calm sleep for a solid two hours or more when I was suddenly woken up by the sound of a Skype call on my iPad. It was Bill, yet again; this happened a few days ago and I decided to ignore it once the ringing stopped, as I was very confused, and I later saw in the call history that he had attempted a "group call" with me as well as multiple siblings of his, which was very odd and an indication that he was confused.

This time, though, I decided to answer. Bill had thought he would be able to see me but however he was calling was just via audio, so it was like a speaker-phone call using my iPad, which I just held up and talked to. I mentioned that it was midnight and that he had woken me up, and he apologized and told me he hadn't realized what time it was. That part was unsurprising, since I already know he stays up all night playing video games and not paying attention to the time. He also realized that he was attempting to call family on the East Coast (they live in North Carolina) where it was actually 3 a.m.

I very nearly just said goodbye and hung up, but Shobhit whispered into my ear to ask him how he was doing, which was actually a good call. So I asked him, and then proceeded a fairly emotionally rough conversation, which drained me a little and had me crying afterward. I have already posted to Facebook in great detail about it this morning, nearly all of it having been written in the Notes app on my phone shortly after the call when I was having trouble getting back to sleep; I only did very minor edits of the text before I posted it this morning. But, I'm still going to paste what I wrote and posted there, right here as well:

All I can say is grief is a strange animal—those of you who have experienced what I’m talking about know what I mean, and those of you who haven’t, think you know but you really kind of don’t. It’s a thing that comes for all of us eventually but we only recognize it once it’s arrived. And it arrives over and over, in different forms, over surprising stretches of time.

It’s also a strange thing, to offer support to someone grieving a monumental personal loss, when you are yourself also grieving that same loss. Except the loss is not quite the same: the person lost is the same, but the relationship was different, thus the loss is different.

I got a sort of accidental call last night, from Bill, who was I guess testing this Microsoft “Meet Now” feature, not at all realizing it was midnight and he woke me from a sound sleep. But since we were connected, I asked how he was doing, and we had our first real conversation with each other since Mom died. I did see him in person, very briefly, later last summer when Shobhit and I went to visit Idaho. But, for 2020 safety reasons, we never went in the house. Bill came outside to have some of the pizza we’d brought, and he was only out maybe ten minutes and said little more than hello.

I think it made a particular difference that I had sent him a calendar as a Christmas gift. I always sent one to him and Mom, just as I have to many others, but this year the one I sent Bill was unique, nothing like what I sent to everyone else: very personalized for just him, the 12 photos are all the best shots I could find of him and Mom together (https://bit.ly/3pgULMs).

This clearly moved him, and prompted him to talk to me a bit, about how much he misses her. I had little in the way of wisdom to offer him—God knows, the depth of his loss is nothing to which mine can compare, her being my mother notwithstanding—but perhaps just having someone new to talk to about it made some small bit of difference. His grief goes on unabated, its continued pain palpable, and he clearly feels a little out of his depth. “She wanted control, and I gave it to her.” He was talking about things like dealing with finances, practical stuff he never paid any mind for over twenty years and now is having to. Mom was his North Star in more ways than one, and the fire burned out, leaving him lost.

I must say, my brother (who still lives with him) deserves acknowledgement, a kind of respect I’m not sure I ever properly gave him. He’s been a massive support to Bill both during and since Mom’s passing, and holy shit do I appreciate it. Just this one conversation kind of fucked me up. I hung up and, thinking about my mom, I cried for the first time in five months.

Bill has asked me to send him pictures of her. He says he has only one (!), and I guess there’s an account of some sort he can’t figure out how to get into. He doesn’t want them via Facebook: “I don’t trust it”—he’s actually kind of got the right idea there, given Facebook’s shameless stoking of division specifically designed for maximizing profits. I already knew he wanted this though, as my nephew Tristen did mention it to me; I just keep putting it off, and I need to get on it. Emailing him photos is one thing I can do that will be of great value to him and easy for me to do.

I can't say I sobbed right after hanging up, but I came close—I did cry for a couple of minutes, with Shobhit by my side in bed and holding me. I've been doing fine in the wake of Mom's passing but that conversation with Bill really forced me to face not just her loss, but the pain that loss has caused and is continuing to cause others, particularly Bill. It was just very emotional: my crying was really more about the emotional impact of the conversation than it was about me missing Mom myself. It's still pretty surreal when thinking specifically about the permanence of her passing, and how much it changes.

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[posted 12:28 pm]