A Rush of Blood to the Head
Well give me love over, love over this...
It's been a gobshite day, it has. Everything's gone right today. And at the same time, everything's gone wrong.
I've seen Steve the Florist twice today. First he brought an arrangement for mom. It was from Marcia and Mitzi. The irony, the sweet, sweet irony. The second time, the arrangement, or rather, the plant, was for me. An azalea, from Professor and Mrs. Augustus. A living plant. A piece of life. New life.
Bollocks.
The rubbish with the car was the start of it. The rubbish with the dog's scat was the continuation of it. I held out hope; a long Spooks marathon helped. Part of the remainder of last night's dinner from family friends, chicken enchiladas, helped. Spending time with the dog helped.
I'm gonna buy this place is what I said. Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head.
Honey, all the movements you're starting to make... See me crumble and fall on my face... And I know the mistakes that I've made... See it all disappear without trace... And they crawl as they beckon you on...
Grandma came. As I was reading, between the last episode of the marathon and the new episode, the episode I've waited for since Spring, Grandma came. And I made her tea, and we talked. And we talked. And I made us another cup of tea. And when we were at the door, as she was leaving, she told me that she'd never known a grandfather. She'd had one grandfather die around the time that she was born, and another die when she was a young girl. The one who died when she was a young girl, she only met a few times, and had no ability to communicate with because she spoke only English, and he spoke only German.
And then she told me that he thought a lot of me. I'd only thought earlier that day, as I ventured home from Ye Olde Corporate Tyre Shoppe, of how much I wanted to know that he'd been proud of me, but that I couldn't just ask her. And I didn't have to. She said it. And I cried. And I'm crying now.
Bollocks.
Why does it hurt so much? I have faith. I have endurance. I have strength. I do mighty works. I, I, I. And it's all hollow and empty. It's no consolation. In the end, it means nothing; I still come up short.
And I can't comprehend it now; I can't apprehend it, or understand it, or fathom it. It escapes me.
Half way through the new episode of Spooks, I opened a Guinness. It's probably long since gone bad; it doesn't really have the taste that I associate with Guinness. I had two identical bottles out there, one that I'd bought before I left for England, one that I got for Christmas from Wallace. I attempted to get the older bottle, to drink it and be rid of it. It's more bitter than I was expecting. That doesn't matter; I'm drinking it anyway.
I learned more about his last minutes. They wanted to perform an autopsy on him, because they were surprised that he died. He was coherent until he died. He knew what happened, he was speaking; he had a hard time breathing, but he spoke, and he knew what was going on, and they were surprised when he died.
Bollocks.
She'll go to South America. They were meant to leave Thursday. She won't leave Thursday; she may not leave for a year. But she'll go. She said that as the two of them set those sixteen places at their table for Christmas dinner, that he'd mentioned that it would probably be the family's last Christmas together, with me graduating in June, and Twitley likely staying in Wyoming or Montana, he said that it was likely the last time everyone would be there for awhile.
Bollocks.
The horror of this all is that I know, I rationally understand, what the purpose of this is. I know that I'll be stronger for all of this. I know that there's a point to it all. I know that it was his time to go. I know that I'm in the wilderness right now, and that it won't last forever. I know that God will never allow a circumstance whereby I'm given a yoke to carry that I can't endure. God is a consuming fire, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And I know that everything's not lost.
That just doesn't make it any easier.
Goodnight, folks. More tomorrow.
It's been a gobshite day, it has. Everything's gone right today. And at the same time, everything's gone wrong.
I've seen Steve the Florist twice today. First he brought an arrangement for mom. It was from Marcia and Mitzi. The irony, the sweet, sweet irony. The second time, the arrangement, or rather, the plant, was for me. An azalea, from Professor and Mrs. Augustus. A living plant. A piece of life. New life.
Bollocks.
The rubbish with the car was the start of it. The rubbish with the dog's scat was the continuation of it. I held out hope; a long Spooks marathon helped. Part of the remainder of last night's dinner from family friends, chicken enchiladas, helped. Spending time with the dog helped.
I'm gonna buy this place is what I said. Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head.
Honey, all the movements you're starting to make... See me crumble and fall on my face... And I know the mistakes that I've made... See it all disappear without trace... And they crawl as they beckon you on...
Grandma came. As I was reading, between the last episode of the marathon and the new episode, the episode I've waited for since Spring, Grandma came. And I made her tea, and we talked. And we talked. And I made us another cup of tea. And when we were at the door, as she was leaving, she told me that she'd never known a grandfather. She'd had one grandfather die around the time that she was born, and another die when she was a young girl. The one who died when she was a young girl, she only met a few times, and had no ability to communicate with because she spoke only English, and he spoke only German.
And then she told me that he thought a lot of me. I'd only thought earlier that day, as I ventured home from Ye Olde Corporate Tyre Shoppe, of how much I wanted to know that he'd been proud of me, but that I couldn't just ask her. And I didn't have to. She said it. And I cried. And I'm crying now.
Bollocks.
Why does it hurt so much? I have faith. I have endurance. I have strength. I do mighty works. I, I, I. And it's all hollow and empty. It's no consolation. In the end, it means nothing; I still come up short.
And I can't comprehend it now; I can't apprehend it, or understand it, or fathom it. It escapes me.
Half way through the new episode of Spooks, I opened a Guinness. It's probably long since gone bad; it doesn't really have the taste that I associate with Guinness. I had two identical bottles out there, one that I'd bought before I left for England, one that I got for Christmas from Wallace. I attempted to get the older bottle, to drink it and be rid of it. It's more bitter than I was expecting. That doesn't matter; I'm drinking it anyway.
I learned more about his last minutes. They wanted to perform an autopsy on him, because they were surprised that he died. He was coherent until he died. He knew what happened, he was speaking; he had a hard time breathing, but he spoke, and he knew what was going on, and they were surprised when he died.
Bollocks.
She'll go to South America. They were meant to leave Thursday. She won't leave Thursday; she may not leave for a year. But she'll go. She said that as the two of them set those sixteen places at their table for Christmas dinner, that he'd mentioned that it would probably be the family's last Christmas together, with me graduating in June, and Twitley likely staying in Wyoming or Montana, he said that it was likely the last time everyone would be there for awhile.
Bollocks.
The horror of this all is that I know, I rationally understand, what the purpose of this is. I know that I'll be stronger for all of this. I know that there's a point to it all. I know that it was his time to go. I know that I'm in the wilderness right now, and that it won't last forever. I know that God will never allow a circumstance whereby I'm given a yoke to carry that I can't endure. God is a consuming fire, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And I know that everything's not lost.
That just doesn't make it any easier.
Goodnight, folks. More tomorrow.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home