elegantwaste's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- sometimes people die. I renewed my gold membership, and hence have a banner. So, if you clicked here from there - hi. Don't get lost. - So. Two weeks ago my nephew committed suicide. He was my middle brother's son. My brother has been disowned since I was 7, and he won't really talk to me, since he percieves me as being on my father's "side" - big long fucking story. The short of it? I was 7, the only side there was was my father's side, and by the time I was old enough to know better, my brother had turned into (or remained) such a motherfucking asshole that he didn't see his kids or pay child support, didn't try and reconcile with my father (nor, to be fair, my father with him), and when I tried to be nice to him, send him christmas cards, emails, or just say hi, he would ignore me. And his son is now dead. I didn't know Luke. I last saw him when I was 7 and he was 3. This is what I remember: my brother and his wife lived in a house on the bad side of town above a shop, which they ran. Luke and me and my niece were playing together. There was one of those horses that you sit on and there's a spring and they rock. And. Well, that's it. He killed himself because of a girl. I was upset when I heard, of course. Luke was close to my oldest brother and his family. This affects people I love. But it doesn't affect me, all that much. I didn't know him. I don't know his father any more. His family lived reasonably far away from me, and it's been 18 years. So I feel guilty for not feeling worse. And I feel guilty because I wasn't in his life, because whenever someone dies, especially when they take their own life, there's that feeling - what if I could have done something? Maybe if he had more people to talk to, more family, etc. etc. I know my dad feels that way: he didn't talk to Luke either, because of the thing with my brother. Which is a whole other can of worms, let me tell you. I'm not even going to get into my father and his hypocracy. And then there's the dreams. Luke has a sister, and then my oldest brother's got three kids. Three girls and one boy, now. I keep being told in my dreams that - well, once it was that I had five babies, three girls and two boys. Then one of the boys died. Last night I dreamed that I had four puppies and one kitten, and the kitten got lost, and all the puppies were hiding under my bed and wouldn't come out. And then last night I dreamed about my nieces and nephews themselves. We were lost in a carnival. There was a beach that you had to climb down, but if you were in the water, you were healed. It was like camp. I knew two people named Nicole. People took off my shoes. Weirdness, etc. So, the point: some part of me isn't dealing with this. Do I have to reconcile with my asshole brother? Should I get to know the rest of my family a little better? Probably the answer is yes. Except I'm not very good at doing things that are hard. (No jokes, please.) And yeah. 11:43 a.m. - 2004-06-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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