23 April 2008

This is the last minute of the last day of [your] life

I'm through saying and thinking the same things that everyone else says and thinks about death.

"It's ok to feel [insert your emotions-of-the-moment here] "

"Everyone has to deal with things in their own way."

"Take all the time you need and eventually it won't hurt so bad."

Screw all that. Whether true or not they're pathetic statements that give you the right to not have to feel anything else. Your friend/brother/son is dead, and what do you do now? You scream and swear and cry and drink. You let yourself feel an anger that you otherwise deny. You let yourself be held by people that don't necesarily mean anything to you. You take comfort from wherever it comes and fail over and over to sleep through the night. You take solice in the ones that loved him and take pity on the ones who didn't. How unfortunate that someone should go their entire lives without being touched by him in some way.

I could say so many more things, but they're just words. They're sounds that we make that try to make sense of the things that we feel, only to fail every time.

Phil was my friend. I'm going to think about him sometimes. Sometimes it will feel nice, but other times it just won't. It won't feel good to remember that he should still be my friend. Or that he should still be making music. Or that it was his choices, not just his [or our] misfortune, that took him away from us.

I thought that this weekend would give me closure. My eyes won't be dry for some time.

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