Posts Tagged ‘death’
Grief. It’s what’s for breakfast!
Ah, Sleep, I miss you. We used to get along so well together. I would turn on the fan and turn off the lights, and you would envelope me in your arms, warm and comforting, and transport me off to peaceful oblivion. But now, like lovers who are no longer in love, your visits to my bed are becoming increasingly rare, and when you do come, our lovemaking is not long and deep, but quick, fleeting, and distracted by strange dreams.
If you actually were a lover, I would have ejected you from my bed already; if you were a human lover, our relationship would clearly be over. But unlike a human lover, I actually can’t live without you.
So please come back, Sleep. I miss you. I need you.
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‘08 Can Bite my Auld Lang Syne
Wow, 2008, you really sucked. Seriously, fuck you ‘08, with a hot poker, even. You were on par with 2001 in the level of your suckness. You were actually coming in as okay – not great, but not bad, but then you just had to add that coup de grace there at the end, with my father’s death, huh? Yes, that was a sucktastic grand finale. Awesome. That put you even with ‘01.
But there is a bright side – I haven’t made an ass of myself dithering about turning 40 a week ago. And then there is the fact that 2009 cannot suck any worse. Even if the whole Western world continues its meltdown to the point of apocalypse, it still cannot suck worse than 2008; Mom and Dad can’t die again. So good riddance, 2008; you shall not be missed. As for 2009, bring it. Do your worse. I laugh tauntingly and defiantly in the face of your impending adversity from the ramparts of my psychological castle. *in best gravely French accent:* I fart in your general direction.
You know, I’ve tried several times to write about my father’s death here in recent days, but have found I cannot. I’ve tried to recreate what I said at his funeral – he died December 16 – but every time I sit down to do it, my muse has been AFK (she’s pretty smart like that; smarter than I, surely). It is the same issue I had trying to put my mother’s death in perspective through writing; history repeats itself like the cruel mistress she is.