Endlessly

It’s been a long time coming, but I think I have finally accumulated enough (who am I kidding, I was ready to write this in 7^th grade) context to write an autobiographical account of my life’s romantic tragedies. Granted, I have previously articulated my thoughts on romance, but purely from a philosophy or “how it should be” or “what I think it should be” sort of view.

We date back to my first ever “dare to be great” moment in which I(grade 7) revealed to my first crush, let’s call her A, that I in fact had this funny feeling in my tummy every time she entered the room and made me lose control of my brain whenever she looked at me and all I wanted to do every time I saw her was to awkwardly kiss those gorgeous lips and hold that soft hand. After all, what did I haveto lose? It was the last day of school and she and I were going to different high schools. How bad could it be right? It would turn out to be a rejection that only I would know about and would not have to face on a day to day basis. WRONG! On revealing this childish, pubescent feeling I was greeted with: “well, Zoydberg, I don’t like you like that. I actually have a huge thing for Random_Boy.” Instead, he wasn’t that random, he was my best friend. I then proceeded to hook them up….every romantic experience since, as John Cusack’s character once said, has been a different version of the same thing….Zoydberg the martyr.

Skip forward a few years to high school…let’s call her B. Smart, witty, God damned attractive and super popular…”Err, B, I have to tell you, that my mother told me never to tell a girl I would move heaven and earth for her, but for you, I would”…”sorry, Zoydberg, I see you as a gay best friend and feel comfortable enough with you to change clothes in front of you, but what’s up with Random_Guy2, he is so hot!” Also, not that I seek such circumstances, but random dude turned out to be new best friend in high school. He didn’t need much help (or quasi permission) to cure her curiosity.

Fast forward a few more years and I start dating the first woman I was to fall in love with, C. Granted, she had a wee bit of a reputation before we hooked up. I however, soon discovered that there was a plethora of awesomeness to her that she needed to realize. I validated her, she proceeded to be philandering and dismissive partner that ensured I owned the title of “broken ex boyfriend”. Christ she looked stunning the day she dumped my ass!

Skip through the puntuatory(yes, just made that up) dates or random hookups and we have documented experiences of dating someone that actually met “suitors” set up by her family(D)… then, super emo who was oh so promising then turned out to have more personalities than a talented ventriloquist (“I love you like a brother”, thank you E), another that was also uber emo and uber promising and didn’t want to broach the issue that despite my best efforts I had her unhappiness on a hair trigger (F), the “I-think-you-rock-and-I-actually-do-want-you-but-we-can’t-be-due-to-insert_reason_here”, G and the made for TV in true Bollywood style, I-think-I-love-you-but-we-can’t-be-together for…err…still figuring that one out…H

Not to leave out the initially promising I, who chose to try to “save me”, be dismissive and judgmental of those less fortunate, then want to shag me to keep me…J, who is smart, uber intelligent, cultured, liked me enough to want to be with me, but not enough to not want to mould me and make damn sure I articulated just how lucky I was to have her…K, whom I had a huuuge crush on, validated her more than her piss poor selection of boyfriends, and on rejection from them (always horribly inebriated, of course, cos she has too much pride otherwise) decides to articulate my awesomeness, before sobering up the next day, in which I was again safely tucked back in the Dawson’s Creek friendship box…Uber posh(and hot) L, who loved spending evenings in with me, but was too chic for such public displays…etc…etc

Before you jump on your horse named High, there is much context to each. There always is. In every single one of these scenarios, be them in cases of me actually getting to date/be with X, Y or Z or merely trying to woo and win them, I have given and given and essentially, been the cavalier romantic fool I have given every impression I am. I’m the one that believes in the Hollywood romance of her getting off the plane after some uber epiphany that I really, really, do rock or the even less likely, her calling me to say she would like to give this a shot because life is too short and to regret is the worst thing in the world.

I continually find myself convincing women to be with me. Trying to get them to see that I am actually attentive, sensitive, insightful, witty, charming, low admin and will make you feel like the most desirable woman on this planet. I remember the small, arbitrary details and glorify the important ones. Yet still, they enjoy the preview but don’t bother buying the season ticket. Dogged by perceptions of who I might actually turn out to be, their own unchecked baggage filled history or just confusion of what they want, I am the loser left with my heart quite literally on my sleeve.

Many quotes come to mind. There are no half martyrs or if you put everyone before you, you eventually end up last or it just wasn’t meant to be, but the one that echoes most eerily is that of you should never have to convince those that already know you.

Despite their best efforts, I choose to remain this terribly optimistic, hopeless romantic. Maybe a re-evaluation of my own worth and a lowering of the “BS acceptance meter” is called for, but if I don’t have the tenacity and lack of fear, who will?

“It’s better to say too much, than never to say what you need to say”

Citizen Erased

Life has become fairly stable…even good to a certain degree. As I continue to contemplate a career move, I make progress in other facets of my life…one of the notable mentions is that I have seen the almighty Muse live and as such have checked one more on the “To do” list. I haven’t blogged for a while cos I guess; I have been fairly ok with how things are right now…no specific need to vent or articulate frustrations or bitch really.

So, I have been thinking about certain things and the re-watching of the Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind has catalyzed a thought about not playing any exaggerated role in a few peoples lives. My martyrish take on things yet still trying to live out the carpe diem bit sorta conflict one another. This has led to me developing relationships with people whom have expectations of me, be it by action or reaction.

I seriously question whether they would have been better off without the “disappointments” supplied by me. Whilst I am sure, that they would deny this and rather counter my thought process with a decent case of “I would rather have than not”, I doubt they have thought as much about it as I.

Is it too selfish to want people to deal with their own shit or is it actually a very self absorbed thought. I really, really, don’t mind being a pillar or an ear or an audience, whatever the fuck they need at that point, but should they then not realize that they need to deal…in the end?

Whilst I like helping people because I sincerely believe I can sort my own shit out better than most (melancholic bouts included) should they not at some point realize that this is the fucking hand they have been dealt, stop being a fucking victim and move forward with some sort of a game plan, resolution tactic or stop gap scenario?

What I do find is that most of this shit that stirs in the pit of their souls causing this random bout of expectation from me, is in fact, history…stuff from a past. An action that needed more thought than they were willing to offer. A statement that should have been articulated in a more diplomatic manner, a guy that shouldn’t have been nuts after looking so promising, etc…or is that me being self absorbed again.

Seriously, the fucking victim card thing pisses me off. I vent and bitch and in the end I fucking deal with it myself…I try to fix other peoples shit as well as my own. Is it fucking higher grade to realize that you are processing shit on a standard grade level and that hoping that other people will put up their hands to go salvation army on your sorry ass is retarded?

I’m sorry that your life is not rainbows and fucking butterflies, I really am, but it is your shit!
If I had not existed in their lives, not assisted with being that pillar or ear or audience, would they still not have dealt with their shit but also not be disappointed by yet another person in their life?

Honestly, I do wish for world peace, gender equality, the ceasing of animal cruelty, but for fuck sake, can you realize that you are going through either a mildly shitty or completely shitty time and deal? Do not make random, left field requests and believe that all is fucking well and fine when you go of the reservation and even worse, hope for validation when you have your own fucking shit to sort out!

As dumb human beings, we try to validate our existence by wondering about what is the fucking reason….we are fucking animals, here to live, breed and die…the continuation of the fucking species. Yes, we have a greater logic and the continued ability to learn and that alone separates us from a fucking pack of hyenas, but they sort out the fact that they are hungry, that their litters aren’t reaching optimum age or they are lacking fucking water. We just bitch, whine and hope that somefuckinghow our problems will be solved. The way the world looks at us, the way that your job doesn’t fulfill you, the way that life is not working out the way you hoped…sorry, hoped? That would infer that you fucking thought about shit at least once in you life, what is so difficult about doing that again, at least this time, some of the variables have been mitigated. Would any of this be any different if you didn’t know me? Or would some other sad bastard be the one wondering if he could do more?

Seriously, I give decent amounts of me to many people and I do it sincerely. I try my utmost to help others by either just listening or giving advice or even acting on thoughts. When I do that, I don’t expect a fucking Nobel prize, I just want you to realize that there is value in the people around you. In context if I am available to assist you, then that context would define how you handle me. If I wasn’t around, would you deal with your shit anyway or am I just the one that is projecting internally about your fucking problems?

Relationships are all about fucking context…realize and respect the context and the relationship will no doubt flourish. All of this means shit if you are busy non processing your shit with half lies, evasions and fucking innuendos.

I have met a plethora of glorious, super fantastic people that have made-for-Hollywood shitty lives and continue to be dealt shitty cards, but they mission on in a courageous and graceful manner and not hamper other people with wanting solutions or assistance to their sagas. Not only that, they continually give all of who they are, without condition whilst dealing with their own problems…and winning.

Your life is not that bad. You are attractive, you are not that fat, you are smarter and funnier than you think, people do like you and find you interesting, he will accept it and move on, you will find another, you have to hope that you will start to feel better and in the name of Zeus Fuck, do you really think that asking “how can this happen to me” or “how can my life be this shitty?” would have any validity considering how you have treated, judged and manipulated in the past? But then again, maybe if I didn’t exist, you would have come to this conclusion anyway, without one more person that offered disappointments.

Get over it, grow up and as Tim Robbin’s once Andy Dufresne said, “get busy living or get busy dying”…

In Pieces...

Tagged!

So, this is in a fairly random post and I guess infers that I don’t have anything too insightful or thought provoking to blog about. Should you need some insightful or thought provoking reading, please scroll to earlier posts.

This post is in response to the almighty Golden Beagle and her “tagging” which, if you haven’t read her blog, asks that I share 7 random or weird things about myself. Lucky for you guys, I am self absorbed and am only too happy to continue divulging arbitrary detail about me. These are, of course, the life and times of Pedro Zoydberg.

Here goes:

1) I am reading my first book since 1994 (yes, I didn’t even completely get through my set works in matric)…that book back in ’94 was Animal Farm and I was 11. I guess I will have to get rid of my adage “I don’t read, ever”

2) My first kiss was just before my 17th birthday and my first sexual encounter was shortly after my 21st birthday! My memories of my first kiss is one of me talking and her pulling into me, mid convo! (tongue and saliva were not held back!) and my memories of my first sexual experience was “Good God, is it supposed to be this awkward… please stay up, please stay up, please stay up!”

3) Sort of a follow on from the previous point…I have never climaxed during sex…ever! Since that first faithful day, a few women have found me mildly interesting enough (I wish my friends were there!) to shag me…that said…I have never even remotely been close to climaxing…*sigh*

4) I cry during movies and certain sporting events. That is right, I am a stallion in the prime of my youth (certainly not a “Man’s man” though), but Braveheart, Gladiator, The Notebook, Shaun Pollock retiring, United winning the Champions League in ’99, amongst many, many others have drawn tears…that’s right…I’m a weeper.

5) When I prepare to go out to bat (for cricket), I prepare the left side of me first…don’t know why, but its just this random habit that has popped up…left sock, right sock, left shoe, right shoe, left glove, right glove…I think you get the point

6) I view my life as a movie…and every movie I see or song I hear, contributes to thoughts of whether I would have that bit in my final script/soundtrack (hindsight view of my life, post death) or not…from what songs would fit where (The Shins, Collective Soul, Seether, Coldplay, Lifehouse, etc) to which scenes resemble my life (The Notebook, Love Actually, Legends of the Fall, Fight Club, Garden State,etc)…it is true, movies almost seem more real life than real life does.

7) My very best days (yes, there are a few), are…the day I played at Kingsmead Cricket Ground (the home of cricket in Natal), watched Collective Soul (a bit of a life goal, as the first time they were here, I was broke, studying for exams and a million miles away from seeing them due to other contextual life reasons), paying off my last installment of a R50 000 student loan on a really, really (you have no idea!) shitty salary in 16 months and finally, watching my brother graduate to become a doctor! My very worst day…the day I realized (and yes, I get the inconsistency) that amidst my martyrish one liners and actions, I will never know if I will ever truly be validated…

There you have it…a quick peak behind the curtain.

Sad Story

Right, to my masses that have been waiting with baited breath for my next post, the time of reckoning (and reading) is here. We first re-visit the plethora of dark, heavy and very emo thoughts that punctuated my last few months…they were all dark, heavy and very emo indeed. I have however overcome a great deal of them. I am pretty sure that a decent amount of the heaviness was exorcised with my decision NOT to go to the UK and rather choosing to seek employment elsewhere in this city. It is to be seen where this process will take me, as it is in its infantile state. But yes, it would appear that I had placed many tonnage on what and where my life would continue…I am happy to say, right here.

Not soon after becoming comfortable with my above decision, Eskom decided to level up and completely and utterly fuck up many things…traffic and fresh coffee being the most important. I am however refusing to be a part of the masses of doom profits that have the opinion that our power dilemma coupled with the impending Zuma reign are the beginnings of an end. I think we will be OK. I think its going to be tough, but as a country, we will come through it…many candles later.

Regarding my funk, well, the birthday was also a huge contributor to the dark cloud of depression that is usually reserved for talented musos, poets and artists. It was then, that with massive surprise that many people that I know made an enormous effort to validate me on this day…most notably, an unnamed, unknown friend/admirer/stalker proceeded to punctuate the day with a “gift hunt” across my employers many campuses. It was interesting, fun and very fulfilling…as of yet, I still have no clue who this wonderful person is and why they went to such great lengths to make me feel not so arbitrary, and I thoroughly appreciate your efforts and only wish I could thank you…however, if you for some really, really sad reason read this blog…THANK YOU!

I had, what turned out to be quite a lovely birthday. To further the amazing race of gift hunting, a surprise birthday dinner was thrown with some of my closest friends and my beloved doc. A great evening was had and further validation felt.

Now, on to the business end of things, as it has appeared to me, that I have over come my temporary funk and moodiness and am back to my self absorbed, self proclaimed inspirational, thought provoking, insight invoking self…

It seems that I know too many people that are oh so comfortable with their own state of vanilla. I’m not saying that its not allowed (as prior posts will tell you, I feel that everyone has full right to this), but to hold on to it, and make it all you have with regards to feelings and experiences is terribly short sighted and severely life limiting. These people that I speak of are interesting, smart, charming, witty and attractive individuals, yet in my opinion, they lack any real desire to enjoy new experiences. They do have hope for these new experiences, but in my opinion are held back by their past, be them bad or good historical knowledge…they either linger on how glorious the past was or how deep the scar was or a good measure of both!

I can’t understand it…for the life of me, I can’t. I am by no means the most interesting person I know, but these people are way more well versed with world knowledge, have their opinions and arguments in check and are just all round fantastic, but, they are chicken shit…building walls upon walls and taking a stand against life itself…it borderline infuriates me with how shamelessly they seek to take the safe haven of constants and not bother too much with the variables of this world and its people. How? How on earth can this be enough…how can such enchanting personalities be happy with such mundane thoughts about certain things so important…?

To put yourself out there, is a very daunting thing, but to live a life protecting yourself from even the joys it offers, is truly criminal. For their sakes and for the people that they will touch, I hope the walls come crumbling down and human reaction/emotion runs free…for the world is a poorer place with such people running in neutral…

“You would say we were just a big mistake, I think its worth making…worth repeating”

And just cos it’s good to feel alive again…

“It’s not the years in your life that matter, but the life in your years”

No Surprises

For the first time since I have started working, I have been away from it for 11 days (the most ever) over this most festive of festive seasons…and I felt…numb. Which is a bit of a paradox in itself…but none of that festive cheer bullshit or the feeling of giving or anything really?

My folks were up here, so this time involved juggling my family, mates and the area that needed the most attention, my self. This insomnia ravaged time means that I am spending a decent amount of time in bed, waiting to fall asleep, or even worse yet, waiting for my mind to calm the fuck down enough for me to feel even an inkling of peace…but to little joy.

Before I continue, I have to speak to recent conversations with fellow bloggers that have commented adversely about my blog. I’m sorry, but this is me, for the better part, in any case. I don’t seem inspired enough to write about just about anything. I do however thoroughly enjoy reading your rants on the randomness of life, but fear my cynicism on life at present would just lead to dark reviews of darker movies and enlightening tales of albums that do in fact highlight heart sore and aggravation. Then there is the case for idiot co-workers and recent acquiesces that require acts of violence to kindly shut the fuck up….I really, really don’t fucking care about what you did, ate or experienced!

This Christmas, I spent a decent amount of money out of duty on those close to me, they did however have a greater amount of thought applied to them…more so than usual…the only gift that I hope adds serious value to someone’s life and shows them what they mean to me would be that of a gift to my beloved Doc. You fed my passion, I hope I have contributed to yours, in however insignificant manner.

As I sit awake, on yet another fucking evening, well beyond normal sleeping hours, listening to random dark, morbid music filled with angst, I contemplate writing what a possible suicide note would read, or even better, a self eulogy…I however fear that that would attract the wrong sort of attention from those that read this that know me…everyone just calm down, I’m not going to kill myself…

As my mind tosses and turns trying to wrap itself around a potential expedition to the UK for work and life purposes I find myself deeper in the chaos of my thought than usual. Often the harder thing to do, is nothing, but what sort of answer is that to life’s great quandaries?

Right, back to the Christmas and New Year bit…as the title suggests, it has been par for course. Nothing particularly joyous (bar time with my nieces and nephew) struck nor decent insight into my sense of self. Yes, this is all really heavy and becoming very boring, I’m the last person that needs to hear it, but I just don’t fucking care about the random, arbitrary shit going on at that time of year that people indulge themselves in.

I contemplate if this would have been the last New Year in this country for a bit or if this will become standard issue for the next little while. New Year, did however, once again underline all the usual bullshit of people.

And no, I did not go in with the most morbid of morbid attitudes, I actually was quite neutral to the whole fucking thing…I did enjoy decent laughs, interesting conversation and way too much alcohol, but what the fuck…I could not be an absolute downer for all and sundry…

I had no expectations, hope or agenda attached to this time period, other than to chill out and not concern myself with the rigor of work. Instead I experienced a visit from the ghost of Christmas past, someone close to me experiencing their own turmoil and the standard issue apathy to most else.

Fuck, what I would give for a good nights sleep!

I’m not entirely sure how I am processing shit at this point because it just seems like a plethora of chaos…I do however think the UK thing will probably fall through due to my reservations of my financial standing. Which then infers that one situation in my life would be nearing resolution, but who knows…

My usual “best of the year” music cd compilation also no longer grabs with the same passion it once did and I find myself watching The Legends of the Fall, Fight Club, Donnie Darko, Garden State, Little Miss Sunshine, Closer, Stranger than Fiction and musical DVDs of Nirvana, Keane, Collective Soul and other randoms (30 Seconds to Mars, Panic Channel and The Kooks)….common factors amongst them? Not sure…Tristan is wild at heart, all those around him die and he is tormented by factors of his life; Edward Norton can’t sleep either and decides that anarchy is the route along with creating another personality to handle his deficiencies; Donnie has hallucinations, also becomes an anarchist and eventually dies with a plane engine falling into his room; Zach Braff something or the other accidentally paralyses his mother as a child and his father has him on valium into his mid 20s; Steve Carrel’s Frank failed in his suicide attempt and is roped along on an insightful, dark road trip; Jude Law’s philandering ways are rewarded with loneliness; Will Farrel is faced with his imminent death and then there is the music, with Nirvana in general, being dark and tainted with Kurt’s apathy in their most popular gig just before his death early the following year, Keane’s Bad Dream and Everything Changes contribute, whilst How do you love?, Needs, The Kill, Why Cry and Naïve all play their part too…

Whatever, fuck it…I’m just tired…I guess I’ll shake it off soon enough…here’s to hoping cricket season gets going really soon!

“Pain is the suffering we endure to attain happiness”

I'm ok (I promise)

Every year, at this time, like clock work, my world is thrown into tail spin of what it is I want, what is lacking and what I really shouldn’t give a shit about…every year, at this time, like clock work…I remain confused.

The new years chaos brings with it unavoidable introspection and retrospection about what I prioritize in my life. Given recent context (the aunt I reference in my last posting has since passed on) this self analysis has been exaggerated. I have always been a firm believer that ones life can easily be illustrated as a pie chart…each wonderful piece signifying a partition that contributes to ones self. A piece for family, one for work, one for hobbies. One for the general bunch of friends and one for the really close ones. Then there is a piece each for a section related to “the romantic real” and another (probably the most important) for ones self. This year end stock take, provokes thoughts around contribution and management of each and every piece.

Those that have availed themselves to my meandering thoughts, will know that this time of year nears 2 of the saddest days of the year for me…the silver going to the uber commercialized “New Years” and gold (by a country mile) to my birthday that follows not soon after. Yes, yes, its all about perception and mindset and all that jazz…but my mindset and perception and attached jazz saddens me, as these two days, till this, my soon to be 25th experience of it, have all been anticlimactic. No new year has been a complete and utter thoughtless event surrounded by good friend and family and no birthday has ever been glorified or validating. I should be bigger than this. I know, but screw it…if not on this, the most important day in your life (as one ex referred to it), then when else does one get spoilt and completely self absorbed? The completely over commercialized February 14th?

What aggravates further, is that in general, I have moved heaven and earth for those close to me, to at the very least, know that on that day, they are all that matter. With the exception of one this year (I’m sorry, but I adopted this philosophy given context and this thought process and you got caught in the cross fire), I have been good in this regard.

As I process them chronologically (which came first, the birthday or the new year) I look back on another year of short comings, lack of articulation, disappointments and lack of commitments, both from and to. Ranging from not being able to quit smoking entirely to a continuation of the romantic tragedy it continues to be (and everything in between) I am saddened at how I did not follow through on the undoubted potential that the unknown holds. Granted, there have been many positives from this time period (time period being the last new years till this) with regards to career, sport, friendships found and lost and interactions that have fueled both thought and action…something has been lacking. What exactly it is… I cannot pin point.

For those that read this that know me, please remain calm, I am neither homicidal nor suicidal, despite the dark rings around my eyes. I am merely thrown into a period of deep and analytical thought. Seeking what it is I should change and what, of the regrets that I have accumulated, that I should rather look fondly on or merely remember as incidents of a past or seriously consider putting on the “crap, I wish I could have changed that” shelf.

2007 was meant to be a year in which I pulled my finger out and took control of an existence that I felt, in certain realms, I was merely floating along in. The year began with heart ache, continued with confusion, was punctuated with frustration and has reached this junction. Before I sound like my life is completely a helpless and hopeless situation, I have to admit to shining lights of happiness and clarity that have popped up here and there…be them in the context of my career moves, new interactions (and the re-emergence of old ones)or the growing personalities of my stunning nieces.

I am however, bored. The pieces of the pie interest, but sorta fail to intrigue…how did this happen? Well, simple. Continually giving without condition and hesitation has left me a wee bit tired and listless (lacking list). It’s not melancholia, but it’s certainly not rays of fucking sunshine.

I’m more tired, more often and one observer even ventured an analysis…”It must be lonely being you”. A perception that’s not entirely off the mark. Though I very much enjoy being by myself, I am filled with infinite thoughts of what’s missing, what do I want and what do I want to ignore.

I am my own island! (Contrary to Jon Bon Fucking Jovi) I do not owe anyone, anything. There is no case of me being selfish, because, as Hugh Grant’s once character said “I can’t be selfish, because there is no one to put before me, it’s just me.”

So what the hell am I missing…its not kids, it’s not a stable relationship, its not more money (though that would be very cool)…The glass is not half empty, most of the time anyway. But I am just frustrated at the plethora of grey. I guess its simple enough for me to acknowledge that I need to take the proverbial bull by its proverbial horns…but I would need to figure out first if I wanted it to be a nice domesticated pet or a nice juicy steak.

To any of you that read this, that do know me; should the thought arise to try to inspire a change of opinion, please do not waste your time to rectify the years of vanilla. This will not be held against you and this post was never meant to insight action. You are as I see you now and this New Year or birthday, will not change my fond opinions of you (if I do, in fact have fond opinions of you) This is just a vent. An unadulterated, unjustified, minimal context, no validation vent.

Well, whatever the case, I guess I’ll figure it out in time. This sort of intense, deep, dark and generally self imposed depression fades shortly after the “gold” day…after yet another acknowledgment of what my role is to so many… but don’t worry. I’m ok. I promise.

Thoughts of a dying atheist

Last Saturday, I, for the first time in my life spoke to someone that was dying. Yes, yes, I know we are all dying in the physical/metaphorical sense. But my aunt is losing traction in her long battle with cancer.

An interesting woman that I was never too exposed to, she has exuded valor, strength, courage and determination through this torturous time. It’s absolutely amazing that this woman, whom has played such a peripheral role in my life, is the sole catalyst in a lot of introspection right now.

Her relationship with my mum is bound by the ultimate element…happy memories of a long since past. My mum and she were tennis champs together and supreme conquerors when it came to the doubles format.

I have my opinion on why my mum takes such great strain in this time, considering, growing up, I don’t recollect massive interaction between the two. Yet now, as I’m sure my mum does worry about her son and exhausted husband, it is their memories, forged in the realm of sport in an era of hardship that twists the knife in my aching mother’s heart.

Whilst chemo eats away at her, the core of who she is still shines through in no diluted format. Last week, after a battle longer than 2 years, she mentions to me “Took a bit of a bad turn last night, but are we still on for that game?” It took all of me to not start bawling then and there as she referenced a quip of mine regarding me playing her on her return to full health. There was, however, an undertone, a hint, maybe just an atom worth of exhaustion in her voice…something that I have never heard, even pretty much immediately post chemo.

As her condition has worsened since that last conversation, I think of her more and more each day and how pieces of me continue to bleed for my mother and my cousin’s heart.

To lose a sibling for me, with all of my creativity, would be unimaginable. To lose my mother, would be devastating. And as blasé as we try to be with ourselves, it is a near impossibility to pass “death is a part of life” of as a realistic mantra. If you are a person that had even an iota of your heart touched by a person that has since passed, you shed a tear…physically or otherwise.

My aunt, the athletic woman she kept herself to be until chemo and cancer robbed her off her physical presence, remains a competitive soul. After that conversation with her (curtailed by a sudden tiredness) I was left in pieces, sitting on my bed, wiping my eyes. Wondering what it was that was going on in her mind and more importantly, in her heart. Is she realizing that she may have suffered one relapse too many, or is she still giving the grim reaper a two fingered salute? What, strength pending, would she articulate and to whom? What are her last thoughts before bed and her first, each morning? Does she hate her God or give a metaphorical shrug of the shoulders and write it off as the hand she was dealt?

Is she angry, sad? Does she have regret and if so, what?

Does each eve feel like the last and is each morn a painful reminder of her physical state? Does time not even exist in her world and is it just a matter of piecing together moments?

One thing I do know though, she has shown me what the term “heart” truly is. I know it in a sporting sense, but in this very real life situation, she has been a true gladiator.

The strong hug I received from her in February, shortly after another one of those chemo sessions was not one of strength of God or advancement in medical technologies. It was one that came from the heart. To see a nephew that she wasn’t all that attached to, visit her at her home and speak to her as a long lost aunt that has just been away for a bit. She played the doting aunt and I was the good little nephew that constantly kept in touch. It mattered to neither of us that there were decades that slipped through the cracks…just that she wanted people to be sincere and that’s what I offered.

I am saddened that I never got to absorb more of her now. Who knows, if circumstances had offered us more time minus this context, I may not have even like her…but that’s if our hands were different.

As she lays in a nursing home, on oxygen permanently and shunning away visitors, I know for a fact of what a warrior she is. Her fight has been a long and exhausting affair and all I could wish for her is that she feels complete and utter bliss and peace in either a path to recovery or that alternative reality that we shall all be faced with one day.

Should a grieving family member or friend be given ones full attention when they wish to show affection/sympathy/or just to see that person? Or is it not one’s right to be dismissive of others in this time of personal discomfort?

Who has right?

This blogger’s thoughts have shifted to him. Being placed in a situation of personal terminal illness or one of instantaneous death like a car crash…I find myself digging up an age old fear: Did I do anything in my time here? To elaborate, did I manage to positively touch someone’s life? Did I validate them? Did I give them something that fed their soul? Well, only time will tell on that one, and when that day comes, may all that I have done that has caused harm, with whatever reasoning behind it, be temporarily forgiven…for if not then, then when else would the thoughts of a dying atheist be heard?

To my aunt…you validated, you invoked, you inspired…