A person is not dead while their name is still spoken
Cut and backdated. Very personal. This entry is about death. (Nobody recent, mind you. I'm just working though some things.)
I didn't expect to end this evening with crying my eyes out.
That book I rec'd here, A Litany to the Many Dead, kind of messed me up.
Maybe I shouldn't have read it tonight. Things have been... hard, lately. October is always a bad time for me. October and January. And late December. And July First. Thanksgiving and New Years and Canada Day and Christmas are the worst. (Explanation: My grandmothers had birthdays on holidays; one was January 1st, the other was July 1st. Christmas - well, we'd always head down to Drumheller for Christmas, to celebrate it with my grandmothers, that and the New Years birthday. We never missed a year. And... One of them died on Thanksgiving Day. I just - well.)
Anyway. October is a bad time. And December. And January. And July.
And it just sucks. It's been a few years. But it still hurts. I miss them so damn much. And I should be getting on better, I should be able to handle it by now, and it isn't like I'm the only person on the planet who's ever lost someone, but I can't, I can't, I can't.
And then I read that book of poetry and started sobbing all over again.
Maybe I just needed to have a good cry. That's always possible. But I just... I'm never going to have another Thanksgiving or Christmas with them ever ever again ever, and it hurts so damn much. And there are so many things I should have asked, but I didn't, and there are so many things I should have said, but I didn't, and there are so many things I should have done, but I didn't, and I was kind of an awful grandson, why did I never take the initiative to call them, why did I never write letters, why did I never talk to them or ask questions, why.
And I know these things happen, they were old and old people die, it's what happens, it isn't as if something horrible happened to them. The one, she was nearly a hundred years old, literally, and she wasn't doing so well, it was a miracle that she was still getting around. And the other - her health wasn't that great, she didn't say it or maybe I was just oblivious but now I understand what it meant, the fact that she had to take practically a bucket of pills every day just to stay upright.
And I always turn to ancestor worship in October, I mean not really fully, but kind of leaning toward it. It... there is a draw there, I don't know. It just feels right. But the same time kind of weird, because I'm not very formal in anything that I do spiritual-wise, and I get the feeling like I'm just... playing... pretend. Or something. I don't know. This doesn't make any sense.
My eyes are itchy and they hurt and I think I've exhausted myself. I should go to bed.
This entry was originally posted at http://yuuago.dreamwidth.org/3430690.html. You can comment here or at the original entry.
I didn't expect to end this evening with crying my eyes out.
That book I rec'd here, A Litany to the Many Dead, kind of messed me up.
Maybe I shouldn't have read it tonight. Things have been... hard, lately. October is always a bad time for me. October and January. And late December. And July First. Thanksgiving and New Years and Canada Day and Christmas are the worst. (Explanation: My grandmothers had birthdays on holidays; one was January 1st, the other was July 1st. Christmas - well, we'd always head down to Drumheller for Christmas, to celebrate it with my grandmothers, that and the New Years birthday. We never missed a year. And... One of them died on Thanksgiving Day. I just - well.)
Anyway. October is a bad time. And December. And January. And July.
And it just sucks. It's been a few years. But it still hurts. I miss them so damn much. And I should be getting on better, I should be able to handle it by now, and it isn't like I'm the only person on the planet who's ever lost someone, but I can't, I can't, I can't.
And then I read that book of poetry and started sobbing all over again.
Maybe I just needed to have a good cry. That's always possible. But I just... I'm never going to have another Thanksgiving or Christmas with them ever ever again ever, and it hurts so damn much. And there are so many things I should have asked, but I didn't, and there are so many things I should have said, but I didn't, and there are so many things I should have done, but I didn't, and I was kind of an awful grandson, why did I never take the initiative to call them, why did I never write letters, why did I never talk to them or ask questions, why.
And I know these things happen, they were old and old people die, it's what happens, it isn't as if something horrible happened to them. The one, she was nearly a hundred years old, literally, and she wasn't doing so well, it was a miracle that she was still getting around. And the other - her health wasn't that great, she didn't say it or maybe I was just oblivious but now I understand what it meant, the fact that she had to take practically a bucket of pills every day just to stay upright.
And I always turn to ancestor worship in October, I mean not really fully, but kind of leaning toward it. It... there is a draw there, I don't know. It just feels right. But the same time kind of weird, because I'm not very formal in anything that I do spiritual-wise, and I get the feeling like I'm just... playing... pretend. Or something. I don't know. This doesn't make any sense.
My eyes are itchy and they hurt and I think I've exhausted myself. I should go to bed.
This entry was originally posted at http://yuuago.dreamwidth.org/3430690.html. You can comment here or at the original entry.