End of the Road

[naamah_darling]

My granddad died at about 11:30 Monday night; in other words, about the time I went berserk and had to leave the house and go for a 70-block walk in the pitch darkness. I came back, wrote last night's largely incoherent entry, and then collapsed into a senseless slumber, which I hope to resume shortly. He was already gone, I just didn't know it

Comments

[ex_subverse169]

*hugs* big ones.

[velitu]

We're different people when we're stressed or in pain, and I have damn near forgotten who I am when I'm not this angry, hurt, tired person.

i hear you. and may we float back to the surface and cast shadows in the sun again soon.

*hugs*

[zomg_its_stace]

Your family is in my thoughts.

[rhonan]

Crap, and I thought it was bad when I buried both my parents 66 days apart. I wish you strength.

[nodrogg]

Yah, it was two years ago that my beloved dog Sam died - yet if I did not have this fact posted in my personal-information-management software, I wouldn't know it; I'd have no idea when it happened. [Something similar happened when I quit smoking, but that was deliberate; I didn't want to know how long it had been, because I know people like that; they haven't really quit, they're just waiting. I don't smoke, and any effect of it has healed away. Maybe it's been ten years, maybe eight, who cares?]

I'm so sorry, kiddo. Don't feel guilty about feeling relieved.

[naamah_darling]

Sometimes I think I keep a written journal simply to have a reminder of when things happen, because otherwise I'd never be able to recall. I can't tell if most things were two years or five years ago.

It's either one of my very best personality features or my very worst that I feel guilty about comparatively few things. Certainly not my feelings. Guilt is, in my estimation, a singularly unsuccessful emotion.

I make up for it by being pissed off a LOT, I think.