The incessant ramblings of a crazy man

Well, it’s 2009. Maybe I’ll post something about the whole new year thing and whatnot some other time, because right now, I just don’t give a shit about it.  Just like last year, and every other year for the last few, this past year sucked and the next one has to be better. 

I re-read my post from January 2007, and in it I wrote…

This year sucked, and if you know me you know why, and I’m here to put it in writing, if 2007 is as awful as 2004, 2005, and 2006, this is the final New years Day post I’ll be putting up, because I’ll have killed myself.

Well, I didn’t post anything last January, because really, I don’t have much to say, but apparently I’m all talk with no follow through.

To the best of my recollection tonight was the first New Years Eve since January 1, 2005 that I haven’t gone to the grave site at midnight.  I feel very weird about it.  Not very happy about it.  Today we had a decent snow storm, and really, I kinda doubt they’d have plowed the place, and midnight would not be the time to get stuck slamming into a gravestone and not being able to get out. 

Bart: Dad, knocking over gravestones is bad luck!
Homer: Really? I heard good.

That’s from the Simpsons…obviously, and seems fitting.  There’s also the fact that it’s 7 degrees out there, dark and scary as shit by myself at midnight there.  But r

eally, I’m torn.  I feel I can come up with all the excuses in the world, but I still should have gone.  

It’s weird.  I know my brother isn’t at the graveyard, I know I have just as good of a chance of talking to him and having him hear me sitting here on my couch as I do standing over his footstone in freezing temperatures spooked at every little sound, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  Truthfully, I feel like shit.  I think a part of me used all these excuses as a reason to not go, because eventually I’m not gonna be able to make it every year.  And while I for some reason feel I should go, my logical side fights with me saying he wouldn’t want or expect me to go there every year, because if the roles were reversed (goddamn it I wish the roles were revered) I certainly wou

ldn’t want or expect him to do the same.  I mean when he was here, I’d make damn sure to call him and tell him happy birthday every year on the phone, but I certainly didn’t drive over and see him every year.  And of course I still plan on going during the day tomorrow, when it’ll be sunny out and hopefully plowed, but still, it just feels like something I should do.  I don’t know.  Blah blah, I’m sad crying and babbling right now, hopefully what I’m trying to say is coming across.

Anyway, this is my fourth christmas and new years without my brother.  I don’t really know why I post these, not many people (if anyone) reads these, and I think I like that, I think it makes it easier to post stuff like this.  I do feel it’s gonna be interesting to look back some day and see how hard it was, or hopefully how it seemed to get easier over time.  It’s still damn tough.  I still cry like a fucking baby thinking about it.  It’s certainly gotten easier over the years, I am able to talk about what’s happened and stories about him and get through most things fine, but christmas fucking sucked after a great day with the family, stopping by the grave stone just really brought it all back again.  If I think about it, or think about the finality of it all, it’s tough, but those thoug

hts are not on my mind every day anymore.

Madison has taken to asking me how her daddy died.  Twice I’ve been asked this in the past two weeks.  Let me tell you how hard it is to answer that question from a curious daughter without breaking down crying and freaking her out because she wouldn’t understa

nd.  She understands her father took a fall, she understands he’s dead, but doesn’t quite understand the finality of that.  She likes hearing stories about her daddy, and like a month ago, she was looking at the pictures in my wallet (a couple of her, and one of her daddy) and she just sat there holding it, staring at the picture, and for a little while was hugging the wallet and picture close to her heart.  I really like that she’s interested and misses her father, but it’s still really tough to deal with.  I really don’t know if I’ll never be like “oh, yeah, my brother passed away, and I won’t get to see him again, but that was a while ago, while it’s sad I’m fine.”  I just don’t really see that in the future. 

I don’t know.  Every year I post something like this, or every 

October 15th, it’s just me babbling trying to spit out what I’m getting at and failing.  But I keep doing them.  Hoping it’ll make things easier.  Blah, it’s 3:00, I should get some sleep.  Happy Birthday Bobby.  I miss you buddy.  

 

 

I really have a quote in my head, I don’t feel like going into it’s significance, but I do feel like posting it, not sure why.  Well, I do know why, but I don’t feel like going into it.  But don’t worry, it’s not some call for help or anything.

I Have a complicated case of escapism — Sage Francis