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4 months later
Posted February 16th 2011 at 09:33 PM by LlamaLlamaDuck
Was talking about weddings last night. Realised that if I were to ever get married, one person I'd want there, one person I know wouldn't judge me if I married a girl, is the one person who can't be there.
People always say that time heals all wounds. But how much time does it take? It's been nearly four months and I still can't look at photos or think about it without crying. What will it take to stop it?
Knocking back the vodka until I'm dizzy and giggly is all I can do. It doesn't make it hurt any less. It just stops me thinking about it. Just makes me laugh hysterically when I realise I'm upside down.
I try not to mention it too often. Feels like I'm just being stupid and repetitive. Like I want attention and sympathy. Attention is the last thing I want and sympathy is just patronising.
I keep remembering random things. Just little snippets of conversations or little things that happened that I don't think I've even thought about since they took place. But they just get into my head and run around and around.
I'm too cowardly to visit him. As much as I want to. I don't trust myself to be able to stay on my feet and tearless. I can't decide whether to go or not. Considering going tomorrow. It's not much more than a mile's walk from the house. Just that, I don't really have any money right now, so I wouldn't have flowers or anything. He used to go to the graveyard every Sunday to visit his wife. Thinking about trying to go every week. Just like I used to see him every Tuesday almost without fail.
They're selling his house. It was in his will that it had to be sold and the money split between his three daughters. I wish it wasn't. Feels like the house is all that's left of his wife, to me anyway. Mum has some of her jewellery that I'm supposed to have. I'm the only granddaughter on that side.
Feel crazy, but I've talked to him a couple of times. Those times when you're crying so hard, you can't stop the words.
I think the only reason that tiny part of me is clinging so hard to some kind of religion is so I don't have to believe he's just rotting in the ground. An empty shell. I'd rather believe he's happy somewhere with his family. Almost as if my believing that makes it happen. I'm not sure why it's so important to me that I believe that.
I keep thinking I can hear him squeak. At night I think about him hugging me and telling me to watch the roads.
And the one thing that's clearest in my head, that I want to forget. Is the day he left.
Dad was on the phone when I got up. I'd heard the phone ring earlier and mum rush out. Tried not to think about it. But dad said he was in hospital. Said that he was really sick and it was unlikely he'd survive it this time. Told me to say a prayer for him.So I did. God, I did. I prayed and prayed for it to be okay. But when mum got home with dad, she just looked at me with tears in her eyes and shook her head. I can't get that image out of my mind. I don't think I've ever felt that way before and I never want to again.
I've lost 'best friends' plenty of times before. But this was different. This time there was no way I could just talk to him again and it'd be okay. Or see him occasionally and over time, mend the relationship. This time it wasn't a fight. It was like he just disappeared. We went to his house later that day and nothing was any different. It was almost like when he'd been on holiday and we'd go in before he got back to leave some bread and milk for him.
It's like everything's been so surreal since then. Clearing out and packing up the house. It's almost like a dream. Like I'm detached from it in a way, but it still hurts as much as if it were real.
I don't want to lose everything I had with him, I don't want to bring him back just to suffer again. All I want is to forget, I want to forget how much it hurts and forget how to cry,
People always say that time heals all wounds. But how much time does it take? It's been nearly four months and I still can't look at photos or think about it without crying. What will it take to stop it?
Knocking back the vodka until I'm dizzy and giggly is all I can do. It doesn't make it hurt any less. It just stops me thinking about it. Just makes me laugh hysterically when I realise I'm upside down.
I try not to mention it too often. Feels like I'm just being stupid and repetitive. Like I want attention and sympathy. Attention is the last thing I want and sympathy is just patronising.
I keep remembering random things. Just little snippets of conversations or little things that happened that I don't think I've even thought about since they took place. But they just get into my head and run around and around.
I'm too cowardly to visit him. As much as I want to. I don't trust myself to be able to stay on my feet and tearless. I can't decide whether to go or not. Considering going tomorrow. It's not much more than a mile's walk from the house. Just that, I don't really have any money right now, so I wouldn't have flowers or anything. He used to go to the graveyard every Sunday to visit his wife. Thinking about trying to go every week. Just like I used to see him every Tuesday almost without fail.
They're selling his house. It was in his will that it had to be sold and the money split between his three daughters. I wish it wasn't. Feels like the house is all that's left of his wife, to me anyway. Mum has some of her jewellery that I'm supposed to have. I'm the only granddaughter on that side.
Feel crazy, but I've talked to him a couple of times. Those times when you're crying so hard, you can't stop the words.
I think the only reason that tiny part of me is clinging so hard to some kind of religion is so I don't have to believe he's just rotting in the ground. An empty shell. I'd rather believe he's happy somewhere with his family. Almost as if my believing that makes it happen. I'm not sure why it's so important to me that I believe that.
I keep thinking I can hear him squeak. At night I think about him hugging me and telling me to watch the roads.
And the one thing that's clearest in my head, that I want to forget. Is the day he left.
Dad was on the phone when I got up. I'd heard the phone ring earlier and mum rush out. Tried not to think about it. But dad said he was in hospital. Said that he was really sick and it was unlikely he'd survive it this time. Told me to say a prayer for him.So I did. God, I did. I prayed and prayed for it to be okay. But when mum got home with dad, she just looked at me with tears in her eyes and shook her head. I can't get that image out of my mind. I don't think I've ever felt that way before and I never want to again.
I've lost 'best friends' plenty of times before. But this was different. This time there was no way I could just talk to him again and it'd be okay. Or see him occasionally and over time, mend the relationship. This time it wasn't a fight. It was like he just disappeared. We went to his house later that day and nothing was any different. It was almost like when he'd been on holiday and we'd go in before he got back to leave some bread and milk for him.
It's like everything's been so surreal since then. Clearing out and packing up the house. It's almost like a dream. Like I'm detached from it in a way, but it still hurts as much as if it were real.
I don't want to lose everything I had with him, I don't want to bring him back just to suffer again. All I want is to forget, I want to forget how much it hurts and forget how to cry,
Total Comments 1
Comments
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I love you *hugs* I'm sorry this is so hard. I'm here for you to lean on though okay, for as long as it takes xxxPosted February 16th 2011 at 09:52 PM by Nomophobia
