![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My ways of coping with death seem a bit flawed.
I just found out that my God-father passed away on the 1st. Sleep apnea. He was 51.
Grr. Arg.
There seems to be a deficit of people in my immediate family. Family reunions these days consist of me driving over to my parents' house and meeting up with my brother there. Seriously.
Every year when I go on vacation, some famous person dies. It's true. They either have stuff on TVs at the airport as we land or I pick up a paper in a hotel, and, bam! one time it was Johnny Carson, and splat! another time it was Reagan.
I watched Reagan's funeral in a hotel room. Not amusing to this lil Republican.
So, I figure, I stay home for vacation, then no one dies. Problem solved.
Guh. I just can't win at this game...
So, let's see... I'm now fresh out of uncles. I need to adopt an uncle. Really. Because, this isn't right. No grandparents, no uncles, and I'm down to one aunt. It's like playing Go Fish, except this isn't the version of the game you want to win.
I should go to the funeral, for sake of closure... I really don't want to go, because it leaves things all open and... my brother will probably go, I should really go...
Dammit.
Normally, this is the part where I go and buy a pint of something frozen and chocolate and eat it, but I... meh.
Angelfood Cake. Yeah. For my birthday one year when I was little, I insisted on angelfood cake. Only, I wanted a whole one, and I wanted to only split it with my God-father. So, that's what we did... and we were both SO sick the next day.
He taught me how to dance -- country music. We were the only two who liked country music in the family.
Every year, he went hunting. Never shot a single deer. Lots of pheasants, no deer. His friends gave him a pair of mounted deer legs once. Cracked me up.
Taught us how to play dice games, and cards. Was the first person to scold me when I tried out some swear words I heard my grandpa using. I think I was five... I didn't use those words again for a LONG time. (I think I said 'I have this damn cold' or something to that effect).
Bought me my first camera. It had those flash cube things. Loved it. We went to the zoo so I could try it out. I harassed the cheetahs and giraffes with it.
He also taught me that if you've got a brick of cheese, and there's mold on just one end, just chop it off and use the rest. Well, I don't think gramma agreed, but... it worked.
Can't recall quite what the reason was, but he was tired and didn't want to go to the store for something.. I said if he gave me the keys I'd drive. I was, gosh, eight? seven? He handed them to me, chased me outside giggling, and kept saying 'well, go on then!' (and finally did go drive to the store with me... I think we went to get pizza).
I don't have much but the memories. And, then, there's that fact of being a writer, you tend to draw from people you know in order to make characters come alive. And so I have Cirdan, to whom I have channeled the warmth, friendliness, and occassional bit of mischief that made 'Uncle Ted' the awesome guy he was.
The jury is still out on whether or not I appreciate the fact my loved ones tend to suddenly die vs. deal with long drawn out illnesses and the like. When I reflect, I am sure I will come to the conclusion it is best this way, but it still friggin sucks.
Okay. Better now.
Who needs grief counseling when you've got live journal, right?
I just found out that my God-father passed away on the 1st. Sleep apnea. He was 51.
Grr. Arg.
There seems to be a deficit of people in my immediate family. Family reunions these days consist of me driving over to my parents' house and meeting up with my brother there. Seriously.
Every year when I go on vacation, some famous person dies. It's true. They either have stuff on TVs at the airport as we land or I pick up a paper in a hotel, and, bam! one time it was Johnny Carson, and splat! another time it was Reagan.
I watched Reagan's funeral in a hotel room. Not amusing to this lil Republican.
So, I figure, I stay home for vacation, then no one dies. Problem solved.
Guh. I just can't win at this game...
So, let's see... I'm now fresh out of uncles. I need to adopt an uncle. Really. Because, this isn't right. No grandparents, no uncles, and I'm down to one aunt. It's like playing Go Fish, except this isn't the version of the game you want to win.
I should go to the funeral, for sake of closure... I really don't want to go, because it leaves things all open and... my brother will probably go, I should really go...
Dammit.
Normally, this is the part where I go and buy a pint of something frozen and chocolate and eat it, but I... meh.
Angelfood Cake. Yeah. For my birthday one year when I was little, I insisted on angelfood cake. Only, I wanted a whole one, and I wanted to only split it with my God-father. So, that's what we did... and we were both SO sick the next day.
He taught me how to dance -- country music. We were the only two who liked country music in the family.
Every year, he went hunting. Never shot a single deer. Lots of pheasants, no deer. His friends gave him a pair of mounted deer legs once. Cracked me up.
Taught us how to play dice games, and cards. Was the first person to scold me when I tried out some swear words I heard my grandpa using. I think I was five... I didn't use those words again for a LONG time. (I think I said 'I have this damn cold' or something to that effect).
Bought me my first camera. It had those flash cube things. Loved it. We went to the zoo so I could try it out. I harassed the cheetahs and giraffes with it.
He also taught me that if you've got a brick of cheese, and there's mold on just one end, just chop it off and use the rest. Well, I don't think gramma agreed, but... it worked.
Can't recall quite what the reason was, but he was tired and didn't want to go to the store for something.. I said if he gave me the keys I'd drive. I was, gosh, eight? seven? He handed them to me, chased me outside giggling, and kept saying 'well, go on then!' (and finally did go drive to the store with me... I think we went to get pizza).
I don't have much but the memories. And, then, there's that fact of being a writer, you tend to draw from people you know in order to make characters come alive. And so I have Cirdan, to whom I have channeled the warmth, friendliness, and occassional bit of mischief that made 'Uncle Ted' the awesome guy he was.
The jury is still out on whether or not I appreciate the fact my loved ones tend to suddenly die vs. deal with long drawn out illnesses and the like. When I reflect, I am sure I will come to the conclusion it is best this way, but it still friggin sucks.
Okay. Better now.
Who needs grief counseling when you've got live journal, right?
