Try

Michael has suffered three heart attacks this last fortnight, obviously there was serious concern for him but things have turned out alright, it was a virus he picked up camping, it inflames the heart, not metaphorically, so the heart attempts to pump blood, but has only air, which Michael described as being like hit in the chest, hard.

We are packing today, Robyn and I, we move this coming Monday, there is still a lot to do. I’ve become confused a bit about my attachments to Terence, because he’s no longer with us we don’t need to bring along the endless parade of things he has collected and help onto, for better or worse I’m not really sure. Throwing out something that belongs to someone feels like awfully like throwing away parts of that person, I know it isn’t really, but that’s how it feels. But I’m being stern, trying not to indulge myself. I was looking at a card he had written on and I thought, wouldn’t it be terrible if I forgot what his handwriting looked like? Which tends to send me in a spiral, I know it’s the great cliche, but I don’t want to forget the way he laughed, I really loved his laugh, it was honest never forced.

Because we are moving I keep going back to the past in my head, and I think, what would I have done knowing that one year later he would be dead, three years, 6 years, any length under a decade really, also how, even until close to the end, I really didn’t think this would kill him, we were worried about having his bladder out which would mean a colostomy bag, thus damaging his quality of life, but, truly if we knew he’d only get a year without it, I think we would’ve taken the chance, the problem was his age and lung capacity, it’s an 8 hour operation and that’s a lot for a man of 78.

He died at triple my age. Which has put some perspective into my life span for the first time, I’ve never thought too carefully or seriously about when I’ll die, I do have this recurring feeling though that I will die young, because, as perhaps either stupid or arrogant or both this may sound, I sort of, don’t think I’m meant to exist, I don’t observe other people like me, who want the same things as me, who live the same way I do, and it makes me think I’m not really suited to the wider existence around me, I’m not saying it’s a thing of being special it’s of being inappropriate.

I missed Watson & Judith’s wedding, which is a shame but given the circumstances with Michael and us moving next week I had little choice. I want to go up a bit later though, maybe in a month or two, and make good on things, give them their wedding present.

Robyn said to me, that if Terence had lived another 3 or 6 months, she would’ve shot herself. Robyn isn’t prone to exaggerating, that’s the difficulty mourning someone, all this anger. God what a pathetic cliche that is, I hate that I’ve developed it, but if I’m being honest I’m terribly angry with Terence, for what he did on her, on us, the mental attacks, Robyn doesn’t have the faculties to remove herself from a situation, she is proud, sincere and dutiful. If she’s offended, she’s offended and that’s the end of it, I’ve practiced for years to put some perspective between me and any animosity, agitating events, you do something long enough it’s fairly easy to accomplish with the majority of things.

Robyn said to me, the reason we both stopped enjoying Christmas and having people over was because we were hiding a secret, Terence, both worried about him being shown for what he is. It’s, such a fucking cliche.