Last week, I spoke of how much I used to hate Mondays and that - after years of taking quiet little moments for granted - it's taken me some time to learn how to stop, drop and breath.

Today is NOT one of those times.

My Aunt Theresa - my mother's only sister - has been suffering with diabetes ever since she gave birth to her second child at 20.

Theresa is also my Godmother, but has always treated me like a younger sister - she was 12 when I was born - and has been my mentor and one of my best friends for, well, ever since I can remember.

You see, Theresa and I have a lot in common - in more ways than one and some too painful to mention - and having been raised in a similar fashion, we both couldn't wait to turn 18 and Theresa is the one who helped me develop my...ahem...rebellious streak.

We shared secrets and our clothes, I was her full-time babysitter and she got me into the hottest bars - sorry, Mom! - and when I got married, I was very honored to learn that she was more than happy to be my Matron of Honor.

Then, I grew up.

Garth (not his real name) and I both worked very long hours on Wall Street (yes, NYC) and once we saved up enough to buy a house and then started having children of our own, we sort of lost touch.

Oh, Theresa and I called each other and saw the families on holidays and such, but we both longed for  each other...of who we were...back in the day.

Today, Garth (not his real name) got home early - a few minutes ago, in fact - to tell me that my parents had called to let him know Theresa is in the hospital, AGAIN.

Her kidneys are failing - no biggie, just one more thing on a long list of suckage dealt to one of the strongest women I know -  but, this time, she's refusing treatment and my parents thought it best if that I wasn't home alone.

Actually, my cousin had to take the phone from my mother and fill Garth (not his real name) in on the details, so that he could "break the news" to me.

"How could she do this to her family and give up so easily?"

Garth thinks she's being selfish.  I, however, believe the opposite to be true and think it would be too much to ask that, you know, she hang around any longer.

Theresa is 10 years younger than my mother and (at 55) she looks at least 20 years older than that!  Suckage will do that to a person.  Most of our family and friends know that Theresa is a survivor.  But, it seems that I am the only one in the family who does NOT expect, or even want her to fight, anymore and just let the poor woman go and give up, already!

"How could we ask her NOT to?"

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, or how in the world my mother and I are ever going to live without her  - not to mention, how in the hell we're going to tell the children that, yes...one of their favorite people in the whole wide world IS probably going to die - for today, I've decided to just...let it go.

I mean, she IS still with us and the hubs and I are leaving for the hospital, as soon as the kids get home from school, today.

Sometimes, life sucks - SHIT, I'm so pissed right now - and people around us are hurting and there's just nothing we can do about it.  Except, perhaps ask God that he, you know, step in, at anytime, really, if he feels like it and QUICKLY!

Nope, today is NOT a good day.