My brother was buried for that very reason. My mother needed somewhere to GO, that she knew he was there.
In some respects, I think the longer a person is dead, the harder it gets, and the more possessive of every little piece of them one gets, because its harder to remember, and you want to feel that SOME tangible part of them is left remaining.
I suppose so, yea. I can't remember his voice any more, or what he looked like, just from photos. It's scary how quickly that disappears. And I used to be able to hold a fragment of him in my hand, and now I can't.
Sorry, I didn't mean to be self-indulgent. It just came over me all of a sudden. I miss him. I want him back.
Thank you. The thoughts just wouldn't go away and as Duck says, if you can't be self-indulgent in your diary where can you be?
I kept thinking about the roses and him for the last few days. It was the last living thing about him and it suddenly struck me that this year he won't 'be' there. The manner of his life and death was so cruel and painful it was nice to have somewhere to go that was filled with happy memories of him. You know what living with someone who is depressed/mad is like. Stupid fucking waste :(
I've spent the last little while assuring my assorted parents that he's still there really, and that the new roses won't make a difference. I think we're all trying to reassure each other without believing it ourselves *wry smile*
Thank you. *hugs* It was nice to have something tangible to hold that was him, in a sense. Of course, others might think that's strange or morbid, but what do they know, right? :) I suppose it's just another stage in the grieving process. The anniversary is v soon, so even when I'm not thinking about it my unconscious is still beavering away, poking me and yipping inappropriate things at the wrong moment. Last night it yipped loud.
And thank you for your shippelclaus icon which I stole and bring out on special occasions when I need a good laugh :)
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In some respects, I think the longer a person is dead, the harder it gets, and the more possessive of every little piece of them one gets, because its harder to remember, and you want to feel that SOME tangible part of them is left remaining.
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Sorry, I didn't mean to be self-indulgent. It just came over me all of a sudden. I miss him. I want him back.
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Thank you. The thoughts just wouldn't go away and as Duck says, if you can't be self-indulgent in your diary where can you be?
I kept thinking about the roses and him for the last few days. It was the last living thing about him and it suddenly struck me that this year he won't 'be' there. The manner of his life and death was so cruel and painful it was nice to have somewhere to go that was filled with happy memories of him. You know what living with someone who is depressed/mad is like. Stupid fucking waste :(
I've spent the last little while assuring my assorted parents that he's still there really, and that the new roses won't make a difference. I think we're all trying to reassure each other without believing it ourselves *wry smile*
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And thank you for your shippelclaus icon which I stole and bring out on special occasions when I need a good laugh :)
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