sometimes there is another type of panic
that they not be forgotten---that some good come from this. "good" is poor choice of words--that something comes from this... above all, that they never be forgotten---
panic...especially when i look on the wall
I see the ink fading from photos, emails, funeral handouts (?), newspaper clips yellowing...how do i keep them from fading? Robbie's notices have hung in the same spot on the wall for almost 8 years and are quickly fading/deteriorating **panic**, emails in the same folder in the same spot. What becomes of them when I leave? Who will care for them?
Who will love them?
I'm confused; I refused to put anything up except small photos of loved ones/friends/relatives who were already adults...why? Is there some sort of shame, stigma, embarrassment that I feel? Perhaps guilt? ...but I feel more guilt over R, K, & T than anyone, what i feel for the others is deep concern, confusion, compassion...yet i keep them hidden in my heart and in a drawer.
some still leave a mark on the internet...a facebook page, my space, msn, my phone, voices, vid, ugh :sad:
even years later, still painful R,K,T --it didn't have to happen, shouldn't have but, neither should the others...they didn't have to happen and knowing just a few simple things, a bit more effort on my part, a bit of insistence/persistence, and they would not have been lost. so, from there on out, one just pours the effort into others, in hopes there are no repeats, but it can surely drain you...but can you handle the guilt if...
no. because i have already failed again. there were repeats and i failed. fuck :sad:
i'm sorely confused
every last bit of conversation goes through head, it immediately becomes forever etched there, burned into your head...stupid little things that happened one remembers...irrelevant micro-details. The fucking lady-bug ugh. stupid stupid stupid one fucking little lady bug(wtf was she doing up and about at midnight? waiting to land on me at the wrong moment?!) ladybug will always be there clearly to be seen. I even put it on top of the fridge :sad: that stupid kid rhyme about lady bugs even went through my head ugh yet there was truth in it--blazing there, fuck :sad: universe drops these irrelevant micro details that become so significant in one's warped brain/memories/heart The things one's eyes see, common sights, it's like the images become sharpened, everything one sees, smells, hears, at that time becomes part of the freeze frames in time
that sunset frozen, even it's precise location on the horizon...if i could but only paint perhaps I could share it-tried etching it in sandstone that first week :sad: stupid things we save or maybe just that i save...maybe others don't do this
arguing; "no. no. Stop! Get a grip! you are identifying the wrong person. that person is currently in another country. You are going to cause undue trauma. tell the morgue/sheriff/minister to look again, it's K, it's not who you are saying. reconfirm i.d. before you tell anyone else or it will be even more traumatic for them. no! i refuse to contact anyone until you reconfirm!" and the follow up call, "I''m sorry. You were correct. It is K" not that that was any easier than had it been the other person...and what would have prevented it, had i insisted they come here or that he go there, would have been there that night and either died or saved them or they would have been here, safe :sad: I had a bad feeling just wanted them to stay here that night.