But time ran out and now I’m left with this mourning.

My brother called before sunrise to tell me that our dad had passed. Only, he couldn’t actually say it. He was just crying and I didn’t need him to say the thing I knew he couldn’t say. So I said it for him. And for a moment, I felt myself go numb.

My dad had been very sick for a long time. He had been depressed and lonely since losing the love of his life to breast cancer. He hadn’t been the daddy I remembered for many years and we had grown apart.

As I got older, I started feeling like maybe I never knew my dad very well. He was an emotionally-closed man of few words. But somehow I always knew that he loved me. And I loved him. And we loved each other the best way we knew how.

Unfortunately, when I wasn’t making the effort, we went long stretches without seeing each other. The kid in me wanted her daddy to just pick up the phone and call her. The adult in me wanted the kid to get over it and call dad. And I did, once…about a year ago.

He was in the hospital and I was afraid that would be my last chance to talk to him. I asked him if I should visit and he told me he’d call me when he got home — which, of course, he never did. As we talked I asked him about his health and he spun me some bullshit about being ok. I wanted to believe him, but I knew he wasn’t well. Still, I didn’t push. We had a short conversation before we ran out of things to say and began our goodbyes.

“Dad,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kimberlee.”

And those were the last words we said to each other.

The next time I saw him, he was in the hospital again. This time in a diabetic coma and even more frail than I remembered. I almost didn’t recognize him. I sat next to his bed wishing I knew more about his condition…hoping he’d wake up and I would have one more chance to talk to him.

That was three weeks ago and today I got the call I had been expecting — and dreading. And while I wish I had been brave enough to visit him in recent years, I am so grateful that the last thing we said to each other was “I love you.”

Yeah…

You think you’re freaking out, what about me? My neck hurts and my nerves are shot for the night.

I’ve talked about how I sometimes having my bike means I might miss the bus. There’s space for two bikes. If there are two on the rack already, I can wait for the next, or ride and hope to keep up until another biker gets off.

Today, I decided to ride. Not only did I keep up, I got ahead.

In fact I was riding so aggressively, I missed a turn, cut across on the sidewalk going the wrong way down a one way road, tried to beat a light and ended up riding into oncoming traffic.

That’s right: I rode into oncoming traffic.

I was already out there by the time I realized my mistake. All I could do is scream and swerve and hope the drivers saw me in front of their bumpers.

And thank fuck they did.

But I was totally in the wrong and learned my lesson about trying to beat lights on my bike.

Oh…did I mention that I wasn’t wearing a helmet?

Yeah.

I almost died.

Don’t tell me I’m being dramatic, you weren’t there!

Ok…I’m going to lay down now.

There, I said it.

I feel it. I feel the judgment. I know you have questions.

Guess what. More than embarrassed about my car being repossessed, I’m embarrassed by the how and why.

Before the was Entrepreneur Media to call my employment home, there was Know More Media. It was the bestest job a fledgling college grad chomping at the bit for a publishing gig could ask for…But…as so many startups do, Know More Media went under and with its collapse, I was unemployed for 6 months. No savings, just a cheap apartment, a laptop and a car that got me around town.

With a note bigger than the rent on my cheap apartment.

And I missed a few payments.

When I finally did get a job, it was always about playing financial catchup. Nothing ever got paid on time and my checking account is almost always in the negative before the next pay check comes.

Sure my life is dramatically different: more money, reliable transportation, a great deal an a cute place, kid in a good school. Single mom living the life.

But sometimes getting bills paid is fucking hard.

And sometimes I have to make choices where neither option is desirable. Pay the electricity bill or the phone bill. Pay the rent or be evicted. Pay the cable/internet bill or put gas in my car. Pay the car note or get food.

These are the choices I face.

And I want to get to a place where I’m not scraping for the basics and ends still not meeting. I’ve been entertaining various ways to make that happen and honestly the only one that seems remotely appealing is working more. Busting my butt until I’m drawing from a steady stream of freelance projects to be in business. The kind of business that can provide a nice life for me and my kids.

So yeah, my car got repossessed. Shit happens. I’ll get over it and get another after I save the cash. I’ll start seeing what kind of support system I have out here, where I really feel like I’m isolated and alone (Not the big bad world silly, just in the new city. I’ve only been here a year). I’m really hoping one of the parents around here will let the boy hang out with their kid in the morning because I have to leave so early to get on the bus. Last resort, I’ll give him a key and teach him to get himself out of the house in the morning.

You do what you have to do right?

I’ll get all my ducks in a row this weekend and starting Monday, I’m on public transportation.

I’m really worried about how my grandmother will get her medicine until I have a car again.