Tuesday, 31 December 2013

A Year It's Been.

I got a plastic compass in my christmas cracker this year and thought cool, now I'll know where I am. But it turned out to be broken which is entirely fitting.

I text mum that whisk pic at Christmas lunch, asked if it would take seventeen years to whip the cream because that's all we had? She said it would ... but muscleman guyo Tim is here and did it in five minutes. Hilarious.

Here's my festive table, assembled at the last minute under the carport next to bikes and tyres. Again, entirely fitting.

Dave gave me some Marimekko Converse, and some beautiful dresses. "Ya gotta get outta wearing black hon, you promised!"

I gave him a thick ring made out of steel, which may be as strong as him.

Many selfies on my phone from this guy. He was upset last night so I went in and spooned him, rubbed his back, told him I understood. Then we went for a walk. He needs some extra lovin' at the moment. I forget that life is hard for kids too.

Mum had a sleepover here, with all the boys and mess. We sat in the sun and talked about whatever we wanted to. Which was a lot. I'm going to her house for a sleepover soon. We're going to go through a lifetimes worth of photos together and we're going to get very upset.

I'm upset now - for three days straight I've been really, REALLY feeling it. I don't want it to be the last day of the year. I saw Cam this year. And last time I checked, he's not going to be in next year. I didn't want him to be alone for Christmas so I brought his ashes to the beach house. Put them on top of the pantry and threw caution to the wind and took off the electric blue velvet pouch. So he's just sitting up there with his name showing and everything. Probably making a few people uncomfortable but I just didn't want to hide him. This is my brother. This is what happened. Never noticed how much we quickly sweep grief under the table. My grief is getting bigger better stronger more. Wrapping my head around what the actual fuck did he do?

Mum and I had fancy mineral water out of the scotch glasses I was given for Christmas. I love the scotch glasses and I'm allowed to use them if I want to.

I haven't had a drink or taken any drugs because there is nothing available that could dull this fucking pain. Not even on the streets. Not even in Columbia. So I may as well feel my feelings as best I can and hope, one day, one year ... that it doesn't hurt this insurmountably much. It burns my soul. If there even are souls, who knows.

Cam, how gorgeous you were! If you're reading this .... remember when I told you that if you killed yourself I would be completely fucking devastated? Well I'm completely fucking devastated. And mum, and Linda, and Leigh. Remember that phone call you were going to tell me some "particulars" aka things you wanted done after your death? Well, I did all of them. I'm even dealing with a solicitor and you KNOW I'm not good at that shit.

Just kidding - of course you're not reading this. Your eyeballs melted in their sockets, remember?

Anyway if you *can* tune in Tokyo, I just wanted to tell you that you're a fucking motherfuckingful fucker of fuck. And I understand. But you never gave yourself the chance to get better. You could've gotten better - I did. Am. Kind-of. And so happy new fucking year, brother. My love for you is pouring out of me every day, in every way. You're the first person I ever loved. Love never dies. Love HURTS. You should've stayed and made beautiful babies. Doing that shit kind of gives some meaning to life.

I love you a million. I know you're not actually sitting atop my beach house pantry. I don't know where you are. Lost.

I'm lost too, Cam. My compass broke.

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