Time keeps on ticking

And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked too much of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself, that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me, away from me.

There's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous faces, pacing for bad news.
Then the nurse comes around and everyone lifts their heads.
I'm thinking of what Sarah said, that love is watching someone die...


That was Deathcab for those that don't know. So if that's true, then what is remembering someone die, is that love too? A friend said something to me today, "are you burying it or getting over it..and is there a difference? I don't know". I'm not sure there is a difference. What is "getting over it" anyway? Is that forgetting it ever happened or is that no longer feeling sad about it? I don't know...maybe I'll have an answer in 10 or 20 years...or maybe when I'm dead.

Reflection

It's been over two months since Gralon passed away. I have kept pretty busy with work, softball, family, friends and romance. I'm afraid all keeping busy has done is bury what I've been trying to avoid this whole time, which is dealing with the fact that Gralon is dead. I have listened to everyone talk...avoiding the subject as much as possible. Even I am careful to not bring it up in all situations. One of my co-workers walked up to my desk while I was looking at pictures of Gray last week and I quickly minimized it, trying to hide what I was doing. I have watched several movies and multiple times I am reminded of seeing him on the emergency room bed....his face pale, i remember how rosy his cheeks always were but that color is all gone. I remember the dried blood on his face and wondering to my self what he was doing in his last few moments. How scared he had to have been in that ambulance...crying. I can't help but think about it....I wish I wouldn't but I do.

It's late...11:20 PM. I finished watching a DVD by Sigur Ros and the whole time I just thought about everything that's happened....I haven't really turned to alcohol except for one day, the Thursday after Gralon died. I lost it that day and I refused to take part in anything. My dad came over because I wasn't answering my phone. I was drunk, straight whiskey. He was pissed and scared, understandably. Alcoholism is no stranger to his side of the family. I just was tired of feeling anything...and no longer wished to feel that day. Tonight I had the same feeling again and it was a bit scary. I didn't drink anything but I wanted to. I immediately thought about work and that is my main reason for not doing it, I have to go to work. I have to keep making money in order to live. I have to..I have to...I have to. There is no choice there, but the temptation alone is what scares me. The fact that drinking came to my mind. Bad bad. Just a bad couple of days I think.

I think of my family and how they are dealing with it....it has to be easier than this. I recall the sermon from Sunday "in times of trial we want to crawl in a hole away from everyone and tend our wounds on our own, but that is now how God intended for things to happen." I agree...but it's 11:20PM, I don't feel like calling someone to whine about "how depressed i am". How horrible. All I can think of is how much harder my sister has it....how much harder my dad had it coming back from Vietnam. I feel I have no excuse for feeling this way, so I bury it. Bury it deep. Stitch it up. I'll have eternity to reckon with it, but here on Earth there are many more that have it much worse than I. I'll just get out the old sewing kit..I've had good practice with it in the past....

Hanging On

It's been twelve days since my nephew passed away, and all I can do right now is just trudge through each day, keeping my head up and staving off the depression and the loneliness. I look to God for support but there is a reason why there are people on this earth, we need the embrace of those we love in times like these, but I know that right now I have to just walk straight and strong as my sister is still needing us to be strong for her.

I find solace in my music once again. Hearing the words sang that I want spoken to me.

Cat Powers -
"You better come, come come, come come to me. You better run, run run, run run to me."

Open, Parachute -
"As we climbed out of our sunny valley, we couldn't help but notice that it was gray"

Copeland -
"There's an angel by your hospital bed, desperate to hear his name on your breath. As he looks down, you're not making a sound. Open your eyes, look at me. I'll pray to you whatever you need. And I'll tell you I'm sorry, that I can't take this pain away from you and put it on my own heart. Can't you see? I've got to bust you out of here somehow. I've never seen your heart this tired, never seen your spirit held down. I know you say this is what you get for being the bad child. But I know this will be your reward in just a little while. It's testing the strong ones, it's scarring the beautiful ones, it's holding your loved ones, one last time."

It hurts and helps at the same time....

Perspective

and little ever changes when you view it from the sky
and the damage we encounter the earth just passes by
and little ever changes if anything at all
and we remind ourselves how small we are

Rainy Days

it's just those rainy days.
spend your lifetime trying to wash away.
'til the sun shines and i see your face, just smile for me, smile at me.

God knows

February 2008 will be a month that I will look back on in five to ten years and be able to pinpoint the day when things started to change. My nephew passed away on February 24 2008, my dad's fifty-ninth birthday. I can't even begin to fathom what my sister and my brother-in-law are going through right now. I can only pray that they will find strength to carry on.

I hadn't prayed seriously in years but on my way to the hospital that night I prayed. I was praying that it wasn't true, that my nephew was going to make it. I was praying that this was a dream, that it wasn't real. I was praying to God, who I hadn't talked to in a long time that He wouldn't do this to my sister who had devoted her life to Him, her and her husband.

God knows. Joseph Heller wrote a book with this title. God knows, why. It's been less than forty-eight hours since my nephew passed and these questions are being asked. Why did he die? What was it for? God knows. Is that supposed to be comforting? What a cold empty answer. There is no satisfaction in that answer, only emptiness. Only the quiet voice of modern day God. They say God doesn't change but there was a time when God spoke to people, maybe if He would speak to one of us this answer would be of some comfort. But we live in a time where we haven't heard God's voice for two thousand years. God knows, and I guess all will be made known when it's our time to go, only to leave others behind with the same question and the same answer.

For now I'm not going to look for an answer because the only one out there leaves me with more questions...

Disclaimer

I am not a writer, so my written "Engrich" is not so good.

I started this blog to serve as a journal but as I would start to write each post, all of which have since been deleted, I would begin to ramble and lose my train of thought.

So, I have decided to try to make this blog a progression of my development as a person to give it some sort of direction. I want it to represent how I perceived life from a kid, to how I perceive it now. I don't know how long it will take, or what it will end up being but I hope that it becomes something worth reading.