Well, I broke my promise. Remember when I made that very obtainable goal to write every day, even if it was just for sixty-seconds? Yeah, well, that didn't happen. I'm not going to beat myself up about it, instead I am going to regroup and focus on things a bit more this time around. When the baby is in bed, I need to making writing my way of de-stressing, not playing stupid flash internet games on the computer. I need to return to my roots. Its very hard, having changed so much in the last five years or so, to return to those roots. They've been augmented and transplanted a few times. Still the same, yet oh so different. I broke the promise to myself but I am not giving up hope on me, not just yet. I am trying. I am able to recognize that I've fallen a bit short and the events of the last week have made me think hard and I think, will push me forward.
Punk Boy and I attended a funeral on Monday. A friend of his, someone he played with in a bad and kept in touch with over the years had died after fighting cancer for 14 or so years. I only met him a handful of times and found him to be quiet, soft, and interesting. I wish I had the chance to know him more, to be honest, as he seemed to have left some impression on Punk Boys life. So much so that we named Sea Monkey after this friend (middle name). He feel ill sometime last week. Bruce and I drove to visit him in Hospital as he hadn't had a chance to meet the Sea Monkey yet and Punk Boy was really wanted his friend to meet the child that carried on his name. We were told by family that the Sea Monkey might not be able to visit, as he was in a very delicate state and all those who went to visit were required to wear surgical gear. We brought the tyke anyway. Punk Boy donned the robe and mask while I waited with the baby. We were allowed to bring the baby to the doorway of the room so he could get a good look at him, but we were not allowed to enter. I said hello, showed the baby, made soft conversation and then left Punk Boy with his friend again.
Two days later Punk Boy received the message that he had died. Funeral to follow in a few days.
I'm not exactly sure what about the whole event, besides the obvious, that made me cry so. I still want to, feel the need to, sit down and just have a good sob about it, away from Sea Monkey and Punk Boy. To see Punk Boy so distraught, to see him trying so hard to hold it together and having that raw emotion sneak through a few cracks in his exterior crushed my heart a little bit. At one point, during the ceremony, they played this song. This stupid, little song that I've heard a hundred times before, but for some reason it just killed me, made my chest collapse a little bit - same with Punk Boy. We both cried together. I felt awful, forgetting the kleenex in the trunk of my car. But some wonderful lady standing next to us handed me a few sheets of kleenex from her purse. Such a kind gesture. Fuck, why couldn't I be more on the ball at times? Kleenex - in the trunk. What good does it do there?
Of course there were other moments of united grief and I do have to say thank god for the Sea Monkey. When I thought I would crack (and what good would I be cracked for Punk Boy?) the little Sea Monkey would do something that we couldn't help but smile at, or would try to grab something he shouldn't and both of us would spring into action, being temporarily distracted from the situation at hand, enough so to pull it back together.
Once we got home, once we were relaxed, Punk Boy had a moment. While holding each other, crying, I reassured him he was an amazing person, a fantastic friend and he just replied that he 'didn't do enough, didn't visit enough.' Ferocious Sonja has a good point, she that we always feel we can never do enough, but we do what we can. She drops pearls of wisdom like that - I love her for it.
So what does this have to do with realization? A lot actually. We can never do enough, it's true. We always think we should have done more, but sometimes, we just need to be happy with what we've done and end the habit of beating ourselves up.
We're taking it step by step - that's how you heal
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