Gentle Whispers

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.

 B -

I'm no stranger to heart ache. I'm a girl, so, heart ache is pretty much par for the course with me. But, for some unknown reason, I'm not dealing with the latest blow to my precious, female sensabilities.

Grief is an incredibly shitty thing.

I feel like I'm drowning in it; like it's some big, black, inky sea that's invading my every pore, weighing me down... holding me down. I close my eyes at night, and it's sucking me into some giant pit of despair, waiting in the shadows of my bedroom to reach out and snatch me like some five year-old's imaginary closet monster. Just a little over two months I've been  dealing with this grief, watching, waiting, biding my time until it will let me catch my breath, let me breath... let me go a full day without crumpling into some soggy mess of a ball, bawling my eyes out.

Beltane has been and gone, and I think that's when I finally settled on a decision. And, okay, so, I'm not currently big with the whole... fertility aspect of Beltane, I am ready to talk about what I'm feeling and thinking and ready to make something of my grief.

I thought about writing letters, addressed to my Nana, after all, it's her loss, that I'm grieving, that's consuming me. But, I'm not sure I could save the paper from getting too soggy; and then I realised, that, it's her voice I'm hearing in my head. Every decision I'm making these days, they're tinged with her voice and her opinion, and I'm not sure if that's creeping me out or comforting me. And then, that kinda spurs on the questions, that, if it is comforting me, is that creepy? Is it wrong to have this image of my Nan in my head, telling me her opinion, telling me advice? I'm terrified of her fading away. She's already gone - literally. There's no plot, no headstone... not even a memorial plant. In some instances, I've been too afraid to ask for one. It seems almost taboo to ask about memorials in this family...

I guess, this is kinda my memorial to her, this blog, although, I'm guessin' it's a pretty shitty memorial. But, it's mine... in a way. And I'm sure you're all thinking 'this bitch is kuh-ray-zee.', and, probably not a good way to start this blog, but, unfortunately for you, this is who I am. I'm the girl who's drowning in grief, trying to deal with the loss of someone I was incredibly, incredibly close to, trying to not let it drag me under, I'm the girl who opens her mouth and stuff just comes out, without my even really thinking about it.

There are times where I'll be way more coherent, more articulate in my arguments. However, I am just a girl, and I'm prone to making little or no sense whatsoever. So, just hang with me, and watch as I battle my crazy-ass mind for something resembling normalcy.

B-