goodbye tonight

There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance. He would be there, on the Other Side, waiting.

That is a genuine quote.
I'm actually quoting literature. lol.
I read this book today. Well, I say that I read it. Sephy read it to me.
I can read, just not that all that well when it's on paper. It's more of a mental block than illiteracy or anything, before anyone accuses me of not being able to read...again.
But that's not actually the point...I tend to ramble and digress when I'm doing blogs. I don't know. I don't actually speak like I write...lol.
Oh for fucks sake! Shut up!
Book! Back on track!
Sephy read this book to me, today. It was rather bad and about ghosts and the like, and actually sort of sick. I don't know who wrote it, but dealing with sending six year old kids to Hell and smothering children with pillows is sort of delving into dubious territory in my opinion.
Whatever.

I've been feeling kind of bad lately.
There's obviously the whole inadvertently and slowly killing myself with self-neglect (I should have just used a pillow....*shakes head*) and the ongoing problem of having to live in a house with an ex and her new boyfriend (who still hasn't come back...oh happy day) and of course being tossed out by my own gene pool and the like.
But you know, it was only last July (...or was it early August?) that Andy upped and died. And that is not alright.

Don't even know why it's upsetting me lately.
I guess it turning 2009 it's like...no, he hasn't existed this year...it's sort of more final, like he definitely is gone, or something. Weird to think, isn't it?
And of course Mika being around lately, except he's gone back to university now.
Everyone deals with grief differently, don't they? And Mika took it real bad...but, so would anyone, I imagine, if they were him.
And you see him now, and you talk to him now, and he still sounds like...choked, bitter, or whatever. That one lasting reminder that this is never ever going to go away, it's going to be with him - with all of us - for the rest of our lives.
And of course Hamster. They found out that the baby is going to be a boy, cool, huh? Baby boy to join the Field clan and all that. Andrew Kevin, of course, of course, of course.
That man is going to have so many damn babies named after him, it's untrue.
The count is currently up to three. Three kids named Andrew Kevin, and then Jodie, of course, is a Christensen. Messed up.

Not messed up, actually.
If anyone deserves it...well, I can't think of anyone who would deserve that sort of thing more.
Except, if he was aware, which I'm very sure that he is, he would be laughing his bloody head off. I mean, usually when people say that sort of thing about deceased loved ones, I tend to think...what? If they could see you now, mourning and miserable, they would be laughing their heads off?
Never really made much sense to me. Except I think that he genuinely would laugh...a lot, because we're all being ridiculous. More of that bitter laugh of his, the faintly ominous chuckle when something really wasn't funny but he would laugh anyway, just because he could.
But I've never really had someone die before.

Obviously, I have. My grandparents...most of them, and some kid I went to high school with died of cancer a few months before Andy did, and apparently when I was in nursery school one of the other kids I used to play with got hit head on by a car but I don't remember that, and I'm sure there are a shitload of relatives that I didn't really care about who've died because I remember funerals...but I've never really grieved before.
It's very strange and I understand all these stupid little things that people say to make you feel better and I used to scoff at. They don't make it feel any better, incidentally, but they make a bit more sense now.

Time dulls the ache.
There's one that doesn't make it feel any better.
Because does it? Does it really dull the ache?
Because I'm not feeling it. It still hurts as much as it did, sometimes more than that.
At the time, at least it was a relief, you know? At least it was like...finally, it's not hurting him anymore.
Now there's none of that. Now it's like...where's my relief? When do I get it to stop hurting?
I would be selfish, if I could, and have kept him longer no matter how much it hurt him, just to delay it...to put it off for a little while longer.

He would have done the same. If it was any of us, he would have.
People get built up to be a kind of saint when they die.
It's like their bad qualities never existed or anything.
It's hard to think of Andy as a saint. I mean, he was tempermental and tactless and nosy and easily amused and he gave up far too easily but he was stubborn as a mule at the same time and prone to extreme bouts of idiocy, he smoke, he drank, he swore and he gave small children nightmares on purpose. That's not saintly, is it?
Then again, everyone has their list of flaws.
He was also an irrevocably good person. Whichever way you look at it. What kind of a person does it take to do what he did? I mean, he basically rounded up a shitload of troubled teens and took us all into his home, right?
But enough of this.
I'm getting...meh-ish about it.

And do you see what I mean about rambling?
But I guess that's...a good solid few months worth of pent up grief there.
I only meant to link it up to the quote that I put in at the beginning.
There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance.
There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance.
There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance.
I heard that...and it was just like...really intense. I can't even explain it. The rest of the passage goes on to talk about the Other Side and all that, but I can't remember or find it again. That is the bit that got me.
There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance.
Yes, actually, there is. I think about that every single day. The last words...I can't remember what they were. I remembered the last thing that I said to him at first, going over and over it again. I don't think I ever found out what the last thing he said was, I'm fairly sure it was to Dan, and she's not talking, not sharing with us.
I think about the ambulance too, watching it. Seen plenty of ambulances, of course, but there was something terribly final about it. They didn't even turn the lights on, no point, was there?
There was no need to regret a few last words he might have snatched in an ambulance.

How about this quote?
It may be curious, but it is true. In her death she winged her way back to her calm untroubled youth, and cancelled all the rest.
That's Charles Dickens. It was in David Copperfield. Studied it when I was twelve.
Amazing right? I have such an awful memory, but I spent so much time remembering that and it's still there. Incredible. I liked it at the time, thought it was pretty cool. David talking about his mother, how she lost it towards the end and got all sick and all, but then how when she was gone she just reverted back to that default...that happy, healthy default.
It just strikes a chord.

Feels weird, writing all of this.
I don't even know if I'm going to post it.
I've written out mammoth posts like this before and then thought...no, too whiney, too ridiculous...and just deleted it all.
Strange, yes.
Whatever. Am posting.
Don't care.
Beats therapy, right?
Whatever.