So, dad flies out tomorrow, heading back south to pick up Pa, make sure the house is fully packed, and the keys are handed in to the Estate Agent. He's hoping that he can persuade Pa to leave on Sunday, that way they'll be home by Monday night, Tuesday at the latest; giving him Wednesday and Thursday to take Pa around to some houses and Estate Agents up here. We've been looking, and, we've seen a few that are nice and reasonably priced... I'm hoping for two bathrooms, that way I won't have to share and I can have my own space, without cramping Pa's style. I love him, but, it really won't be the same without...
The house they'd been looking at originally, just up the road here, it's got a 'Sold' sticker on it. I'm guessing someone obviously didn't like it, especially after it's been sitting there empty for the last five months, screaming at us that it's for sale. I sincerely hope that it was the fact that it had one bathroom and the rooms were really dowdy that made it unlikeable.
I've been thinking a lot lately... about death. My death in particular. I think about what it would be like to die... not now, naturally. But, like, fifty or sixty years down the road, when I'm old and surrounded by grandchildren (or, as Mum keeps reminding me, a hundred cats...). It's not something I can imagine. Not clearly anyway. When I think about it, about what it would be like, it's like my brain just shuts down; presents this giant black landscape of nothingness. I want to ask questions, but who would I ask? I want to ask if it's normal to think like this, but, I'm too chicken shit; in case someone takes it the wrong way and I get sectioned.
I've thought about going to some psychic - namely the psychic that's opened up under the pole dancing studio down the road. I think it might be nice to get some kinda... answers. I've ten million and one questions floating around in my head and only one person can answer them; but, in the same token, I don't want some reefer smoking hippie to placate me with pretty lies, telling me things they think I want to hear.
I never really thought about it till now, but, is there a Heaven? I mean, I don't believe in God and Jesus, or, at least, not the Christian way of thinking. I'm Pagan, so, I believe there are many wonderful things that need to be worshipped - the air, the Earth, the spirit... Life force. And I believe in the process of Mother Moon and Father Sun - that whole ying and yang equilibrium that works well for Eastern philosophy. But, do I believe in Heaven? And what about reincarnation? Does a person really come back as a slug if they were assholes in this life? Would that make me a worm or something when I die? What happens to my thoughts when I die? I can't fathom just ceasing to exist, and yet, I don't know if I believe in a place like Heaven or if Reincarnation's just a load of twaddle...
I guess, I just wanna know if you're okay... wherever it is you've managed to sequester yourself, Nan. Are you with me? Sitting on my shoulder, nagging me to get a hair cut and do something about my nails? It would explain why I've been waking up with a stiff neck some mornings. Are you watching me, from some kinda cloud thing, with a halo and a harp and strumming something like The Seasons, or Sleeping Beauty? Christ, you left so many questions in your wake... how dare you leave me with all these stupid questions, burning in my brain and throat... just waiting to leap out.
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