I am so fucking angry at you. So angry I want to scream my fucking lungs out. Could be sleep deprivation. Could be because I have literally worked myself into complete exhaustion. Could be because you made such a selfish decision and now you’ve left me. You left US. To deal with today. Let’s just call it the epitome of hell. Just for fun, eh?
Wow! Sarcasm! I HATE sarcasm and here I am using it in the major third degree. I’m even angry typing. THUD THUD THUD wow, I sound like such an angry person. I’m not usually like this, I swear… But just today.
Today I am allowed.
So Bud, what did you do today? Oh. Nothing. You’re now floating on clouds. I hope you had a front seat view on our today. We sat there, staring at our hands. No idea where my mind was and neither did the next person, or the next. Your nans face was the hardest. She kept bringing pikelets around to your house. Jam and cream ones.
Those pikelets went cold.
I saw grief. Oh boy did I see a lot of it. Toss a bit of shock in there too along with a dash of “WTF was he thinking when he got in that car…?” You’ve got yourself a huge salad of fucked up, that’s what you got. I cried for you today. Then I walked downtown and had a pleasant conversation with the cashier in Countdown. Even hummed along to my iPod on the way home. Then I remembered why I was there and felt a sharp stab in my gut. Then I got angry again
I forgot momentarily. Is that normal? How fucked up is that?
I have said ‘fuck’ a lot.
I don’t even give a fuck.
I calmed down a bit… I can feel that long angry surge coming to an end.. or perhaps just an interval. Please let it be the end. I know grief too well, but this is new. Usually it’s sadness that dominates alongside shock and disbelief. Anger? Not so much usually. It’s because I fucking love you. It’s been less than a day and already your absence has taken a huge toll.
On all of us.
Today I walked by the park where we used to play rugby. It gave me chills and the wind picked up slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to believe it was your friendly embrace.
I sat in your room where we used to jam out. I can replay it in my head. Your guitar strings were gathering dust and it made me sad.
I stood in your garage where you and I shot the BB gun for the first time. I can still hear the cracking sound followed by our giggles after.
I’m now looking at photos from Picton. You got that camera for Christmas and I remember how eager you were to show it off.
Okay. A lot of anger is out. Now here comes the sadness and the reality of it all…
I’m angry at you because you left without saying goodbye or asking for help.
I’m angry at you because I couldn’t help you.
I’m angry at myself because I think I could have tried.