Random music; Relationship of Command
Chris called me today to say that it was an emergency, phone tag I got a hold of Mike and he told me to get to the hospital. I sped from the IPF listening to the Grudge, followed by Parabol/a and T&L by the time I got to D Street. Kinda weird though; I knew once I got down the hill from work what had happened; the idiot. Like the wife in October Sky, I wasn’t going to cry a tear for him. I collected my glasses, jacket and phone. Across the parking lot I told myself aloud that what was going to happen was “reality” and that whatever it may be, I was going to accept it. I got there I told the lady on the walker to have a good day, and that I was there for some stupid reason.
The receptionist told me to head down the ER and so I took the hallway, and the woman behind the window [who didn’t realize that she wasn’t speaking loud enough to activate the microphone] told me to head out to the Chapel, which turned out not to be around the corner but just inside of the ambulance entrance. I was somewhat optimistic, thinking that Mike would have followed Pastor Bernie for the sake of support to help my family pray for his, well, recovery, in the chapel. Robert and Mike found me as I walked into the ambulance door and put their arms around me; I knew.
I first saw Pastor Bernie, and my mom came to me as I walked through the door. I gave my mom a hug and we held face to face, she said that he was gone. Awkwardly I asked her where he went, and the way that she said it reminded me of Lindsey in the car on Christmas Eve, and just now of what Lindsey said to Caiden upon his delivery.
I looked to the right to see my dad with wet eyes. Mike was to the left and I believe that Robert was still by the door. Donna and Brian were in the back by the window across from my dad. “Oh.” I then sat with my mom on the couch and put my arm around her like she needed it. My eyes were still dry. Pastor Bernie said something about God’s graces. I’m glad that he was there; the people who were there for a reason; nobody more, nobody less.
My mom said that she expected to be the one holding me, and I replied that she needed it more.
“It’s not fair.” They’ve already had to bury one child, how long ago? Sixteen years? Somehow that has been refreshed and multiplied. Where have the eighties gone? The first the two eldest of their five children are now gone, and I am now the default. Two out of five. Whether or not it was “intentional” doesn’t really matter, because he put whatever it was into his body, it was his choice. Charley’s line, “Nobody dast blame this man” hits a good chord here, despite the differences of the men.
Initially I was sad only for my father and especially mother, angry even. It’s not fair to them to bury a second child. It may have been my mother who said to me a long time ago that parents should never have to bury their children; TWO!
I am the oldest brother. My sisters look up to me as their rock older brother.
I really only cried, lightly mind you, after Pastor Bernie implied that I feel differently about it that my mother had expected me to react differently; saying that I’m a father and have my own… I cried for my mother.
I decided to write this when I sat in the addition on the computer and looked around at his stuff, realizing that I will never see him again, at least in this world. Oddly mixed thoughts about having that empty spot where my older brother was.
He needed help; we all knew that, but we didn’t know. It makes me a lethargic sad to think that we didn’t know how desperately he needed it. Highs and lows, however he’d react depending on his mood and whatever was going on; it’s hard to see clearly as things may be to others while you are impressed by your own perceptions. Whether it was on purpose depends on how he perceived life at the time; was he fucked up? Well obviously that, but would he if he were sober? I’m conflicted on the perspective thing in the way that I conflict a conscious or omniscient God. I don’t know if that’s a good comparison, but you know what I mean. Did he do it because his thoughts were enhanced by an altered state, or did he intend on it and used the altered state as a way to enhance his thoughts? Perhaps I’ll never know. Regardless of his state, was it intentional and what were his thoughts? It may be best left at that, and keep me guessing for the rest of my days rather than knowing and possibly being haunted.
Cassandra Haupt from Starbucks who told me that he was cute moved from down south after four of her best friends committed suicide; I’d like to tell her why he wouldn’t be coming to work anymore. I don’t want to tell anybody that I work with. I hate them, to be honest. My friends can wait to know that he’s even gone.
Extreme moods seem to be inherent in the family, I want to speculate about in who or how. I find extreme a great description of the contrast between him and me at this point, or at least the last point; with my inspiration to [re]establish connections beyond Practical Cleaning Solutions.
Perhaps bringing him back into this house exacerbated his moods, through the conflicts and arguments. The last time I saw him, I had told him through anger to shut the fuck up, that he didn’t belong in the house anymore. I have my own family now, and it’s been hard on them to dodge bullets. I never told him that I forgave him, and even wish to apologize.
My parents should not endure this. Julie and Leann don’t know, so it was eerie to greet Leann as she came home from school today.
Question of the day:
Does death contract an afterlife, or a cessation of existence?
An afterlife is easy for a human to comprehend as being similar to life, but cessation is impossible, because nonexistence is not comprehensible.
Eva just called for Scott… he’s out? Oh god that was awkward.
Chris called me today to say that it was an emergency, phone tag I got a hold of Mike and he told me to get to the hospital. I sped from the IPF listening to the Grudge, followed by Parabol/a and T&L by the time I got to D Street. Kinda weird though; I knew once I got down the hill from work what had happened; the idiot. Like the wife in October Sky, I wasn’t going to cry a tear for him. I collected my glasses, jacket and phone. Across the parking lot I told myself aloud that what was going to happen was “reality” and that whatever it may be, I was going to accept it. I got there I told the lady on the walker to have a good day, and that I was there for some stupid reason.
The receptionist told me to head down the ER and so I took the hallway, and the woman behind the window [who didn’t realize that she wasn’t speaking loud enough to activate the microphone] told me to head out to the Chapel, which turned out not to be around the corner but just inside of the ambulance entrance. I was somewhat optimistic, thinking that Mike would have followed Pastor Bernie for the sake of support to help my family pray for his, well, recovery, in the chapel. Robert and Mike found me as I walked into the ambulance door and put their arms around me; I knew.
I first saw Pastor Bernie, and my mom came to me as I walked through the door. I gave my mom a hug and we held face to face, she said that he was gone. Awkwardly I asked her where he went, and the way that she said it reminded me of Lindsey in the car on Christmas Eve, and just now of what Lindsey said to Caiden upon his delivery.
I looked to the right to see my dad with wet eyes. Mike was to the left and I believe that Robert was still by the door. Donna and Brian were in the back by the window across from my dad. “Oh.” I then sat with my mom on the couch and put my arm around her like she needed it. My eyes were still dry. Pastor Bernie said something about God’s graces. I’m glad that he was there; the people who were there for a reason; nobody more, nobody less.
My mom said that she expected to be the one holding me, and I replied that she needed it more.
“It’s not fair.” They’ve already had to bury one child, how long ago? Sixteen years? Somehow that has been refreshed and multiplied. Where have the eighties gone? The first the two eldest of their five children are now gone, and I am now the default. Two out of five. Whether or not it was “intentional” doesn’t really matter, because he put whatever it was into his body, it was his choice. Charley’s line, “Nobody dast blame this man” hits a good chord here, despite the differences of the men.
Initially I was sad only for my father and especially mother, angry even. It’s not fair to them to bury a second child. It may have been my mother who said to me a long time ago that parents should never have to bury their children; TWO!
I am the oldest brother. My sisters look up to me as their rock older brother.
I really only cried, lightly mind you, after Pastor Bernie implied that I feel differently about it that my mother had expected me to react differently; saying that I’m a father and have my own… I cried for my mother.
I decided to write this when I sat in the addition on the computer and looked around at his stuff, realizing that I will never see him again, at least in this world. Oddly mixed thoughts about having that empty spot where my older brother was.
He needed help; we all knew that, but we didn’t know. It makes me a lethargic sad to think that we didn’t know how desperately he needed it. Highs and lows, however he’d react depending on his mood and whatever was going on; it’s hard to see clearly as things may be to others while you are impressed by your own perceptions. Whether it was on purpose depends on how he perceived life at the time; was he fucked up? Well obviously that, but would he if he were sober? I’m conflicted on the perspective thing in the way that I conflict a conscious or omniscient God. I don’t know if that’s a good comparison, but you know what I mean. Did he do it because his thoughts were enhanced by an altered state, or did he intend on it and used the altered state as a way to enhance his thoughts? Perhaps I’ll never know. Regardless of his state, was it intentional and what were his thoughts? It may be best left at that, and keep me guessing for the rest of my days rather than knowing and possibly being haunted.
Cassandra Haupt from Starbucks who told me that he was cute moved from down south after four of her best friends committed suicide; I’d like to tell her why he wouldn’t be coming to work anymore. I don’t want to tell anybody that I work with. I hate them, to be honest. My friends can wait to know that he’s even gone.
Extreme moods seem to be inherent in the family, I want to speculate about in who or how. I find extreme a great description of the contrast between him and me at this point, or at least the last point; with my inspiration to [re]establish connections beyond Practical Cleaning Solutions.
Perhaps bringing him back into this house exacerbated his moods, through the conflicts and arguments. The last time I saw him, I had told him through anger to shut the fuck up, that he didn’t belong in the house anymore. I have my own family now, and it’s been hard on them to dodge bullets. I never told him that I forgave him, and even wish to apologize.
My parents should not endure this. Julie and Leann don’t know, so it was eerie to greet Leann as she came home from school today.
Question of the day:
Does death contract an afterlife, or a cessation of existence?
An afterlife is easy for a human to comprehend as being similar to life, but cessation is impossible, because nonexistence is not comprehensible.
Eva just called for Scott… he’s out? Oh god that was awkward.
