24 june 1981
Chris is dead.
In Memoriam
With you a part of me hath passed away;
For in the peopled forest of my mind
A tree made leafless by this wintry wind
Shall never don again its green array.
Chapel and fireside, country road and bay,
Have something of their friendliness resigned;
Another, if I would, I could not find,
And I am grown much older in a day.
But yet I treasure in my memory
Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease,
And the dear honour of your amity;
For these once mine, my life is rich with these.
And I scarce know which part may greater be,--
What I keep of you, or you rob from me.
-- George Santayana
I thought at the funeral that it was nice. The funeral was nice, there was that. But it was nice that Dad and Chris would be together, if there's anything after death I mean. And we're all here together, too, but at least Dad isn't alone there. We don't have Chris but at least they're not alone.
I'm talking crazy, aren't I?
The season's over and this time I might have to pick up a job. Usually I take this time to breathe, to have some fun. Go places, see things. Forget about everything that happened during the season. But I went to the London Zoo and all I could see was
All I saw, all I keep seeing are things I'd miss and that I'll never get, kids and family and happiness, days out with people you love.
Tori said to me last night that I should just get over it, that people die and leave you and doesn't have anything to do with you, it's just the way it is, we're all moving past each other. Ships that pass in the night. She says that when we die you're gone, that's it, and all you can do is feel good while you can, however you can.
I don't remember the last time I enjoyed anything. Whiskey, chocolate, anything, it all tastes like nothing now.
I rented a film and it was like they were speaking in a different language, making bizarre gestures and absurd overdramatic faces, and none of it was real. But that's how everything feels.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Went to the library today. I used to read a lot. One summer I read 175 books, a lot of them of poetry. Spent hours in the library just reading. Used to get fantastic marks in primary, didn't do nearly as well at Hogwarts, but they didn't have a lit class or any sort of real history class. Tori, got a book for you, I think you're going to like it.
Hope everyone's good.