Today I learned that my good friend, and former coworker at the Museum, died unexpectedly. His name was Mike Robinson...we called him "Mr. No Good," because he was always joking and goofing around about being a badass, when we all knew he was really just a harmless, lovable teddy bear. He and my other best buddy, Art Anderson, were almost like brothers, and were the oldest guys in our department. I hung out with them all the time, we called ourselves, "Partners in Crime," and Art was "Buff Daddy," who would do anything "for five dollahs." We laughed a lot. We goofed a lot. We flirted a lot. Mike was always telling me to come sit on "Santa's lap," (referring to his white beard).
Mike was not much older than Pete.
He was a widower...he had 3 daughters, one of whom died unexpectedly 2 months ago...the youngest has been very sick for a long time, and is now blind, and living in a nursing home...we don't know what is going to happen to her now...she may not last very long because he never gave up on her and would visit her every day after work. It's all so tragic.
My friend Rachel sent me a message on Facebook, saying that Mike didn't show up for work 2 days in a row, and seemed to be missing. The next message I got from her said that they found him in his car, slumped over his steering wheel, in the Springfield VA Mall....he had a bag of McDonalds food next to him. It must have been a heart attack, I don't know for sure yet, but it is so unexpected and shocking.....
I've been a mess all afternoon, lying in bed crying. My Museum family, the people I worked so closely with for so long, mean everything to me. I have missed them terribly for so long, and I was hoping to get to see him (along with Rachel and Art and others), this coming weekend, when Pete and I go to DC. It seems like every time we go to DC, there is a horrible overwhelming sadness for me, that just depresses the shit out of me for weeks, and I told Pete I don't want to go there anymore, but he's telling me to just relax and cry awhile, and I'll change my mind by the weekend.
So this week has been rather sad for me.
My youngest sister in England just told me that she has another blood clot in her leg again...last summer it was 7 clots in one leg...she may have to take coumadin for the rest of her life if this is going to keep happening. She can't fly on a plane for fear of developing more clots, sitting too long...she has deep vein thrombosis. I have the potential for having it, but so far I've never had a clot. She doesn't want to tell my mom yet, because my mom is still a mess from losing her dog, Radar.
I need a hug, Stephen.
Well, anyway, it's a nice thought. I love ya.
Bye for now.
Love, Rebecca
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