I think about my grandad often. He died when I was 7. He was my favorite human on the earth. i've never gotten over it.
He flew Cessnas and shit for fun. I want to clean up enough to learn to fly Cessnas. I mean, he said he'd teach me one day. I want to learn just for his memory. no idea how i will do it, with my flying fear (when takeoff happens i have to picture myself at 6 in his arms at the Planetarium.) but I will do it for him.
There are people I don't think I can say, but my best girls...The loves of my life are slutbunwalla and sophieholloway I hope they didn't want to be incognita...If they did I'm fucked.
Way back in 1991 or 92, I had a girlfriend whose family lived in Indiana. She had relocated to San Francisco and we were gonna meet for the race that year. Well, the morning she was slated to board her plane, (I was slated to board mine the following day) she called me at work, stunned, because her father had just died of a heart attack on the tennis court after playing a game. All I could say was how sorry I was... and I could not help but ask her if she'd find out whether or not he'd won that game. She said it really took a lot of her mind off the whole thing and that yes, in fact, he had won his last game of tennis. Yeah you right!!!
In other news, I don't want to die alone... but I'm pretty certain I'm gonna.
My best friend's father died of cancer and spent his final weeks in alternate agony and morpheus curling up into a waxy shell of himself in a stinking bed, I never ever understood why he didn't pick a moment before hand and just stop it all on a high. Quite frankly the nurses killed him off anyway out of kindness, as they nearly always do, so why not just take the morphine on a good day in the sunshine while listening to the cricket?
Exactly. I've had some disturbing news regarding my health lately, and I'm choosing to ignore it. If I paid attention, I'd lose my job and become a burden on my family and the state and die in the hospital or the old mason's home. I want to drop dead on deck, yelling at lazy somalians or chasing stowaways around with a stick.
That's a good way to think about it. I think people get clouded with how much they miss people who have died and don't often think of it in ways like that.
I miss my Mom terribly, but she (mostly) died having her morning coffee and chatting with my Dad. She lost consciousness at least (and they say she didn't know anything after that) and that would have made her pretty happy. She needed her morning coffee to be ready to go anywhere- probably to die, even. It makes me feel better to know that at least she got her coffee!
For that moment, no. Her mother died at a similar age as when she did (meaning- she was about the same age when her Mom died as when mine did) and I grew up hearing about the sad parts of it. I know that the things she would lament would be things like not being able to see me anymore, not being able to see her (future) grandchildren, etc... because that's what she always felt like she was missing. Her Mom did not have as 'good' or maybe 'fortunate' of a death (long stint with cancer) so they got to talk about regrets and etc. about the inevitable to come. I am thankful that it was quick and not long, suffering, and contemplative- but I miss her like hell and will be/have been somewhat lost at times.
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I think about my grandad often. He died when I was 7. He was my favorite human on the earth. i've never gotten over it.
He flew Cessnas and shit for fun. I want to clean up enough to learn to fly Cessnas. I mean, he said he'd teach me one day. I want to learn just for his memory. no idea how i will do it, with my flying fear (when takeoff happens i have to picture myself at 6 in his arms at the Planetarium.) but I will do it for him.
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I really want to gooooo this year, it's been like 3 years I think since I went, maybe 4. I'm gonna do it! We should def. meet up.
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In other news, I don't want to die alone... but I'm pretty certain I'm gonna.
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And we all die alone. There ain't no way around that.
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My best friend's father died of cancer and spent his final weeks in alternate agony and morpheus curling up into a waxy shell of himself in a stinking bed, I never ever understood why he didn't pick a moment before hand and just stop it all on a high. Quite frankly the nurses killed him off anyway out of kindness, as they nearly always do, so why not just take the morphine on a good day in the sunshine while listening to the cricket?
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I miss my Mom terribly, but she (mostly) died having her morning coffee and chatting with my Dad. She lost consciousness at least (and they say she didn't know anything after that) and that would have made her pretty happy. She needed her morning coffee to be ready to go anywhere- probably to die, even. It makes me feel better to know that at least she got her coffee!
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I guess I am babbling on. I never write anymore.
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