Frayed rope

Just heard from my brother that Tito Max passed away last night. I don't think I can go to the wake. Just thinking about it is making me a little sick. I had a hard time watching him as he looked at his brother at dad's wake. It was like watching my dad look at my dad. If I go it'll be like seeing him dead again. Its selfish, I know. But I feel like frayed rope about the whole thing. He wasn't looking good a few months ago and it had seemed like he had gotten together as much strength as he could to visit us, to visit my father. I remember him with the little mask covering his mouth, telling me that he has this tube to drain his lung. I figured the family has a physical weakness in that area. What used to be a sly - I know something you need to know - look was replaced with the same - I know what's coming - look that my father had. As I understand it, his immediate family kept it from him to keep him in high spirits. But he looked like he wasn't fooled. It reminds me of seeing headlights glare on the dark road ahead of a blind corner; you don't know what car is coming, but its coming.


I'm just not as strong as I wish I was, but I am able feel guilty for a very long time. What does that mean about who I am?

My condolences and apologies to the family.

Still a little lost

I may have been actively avoiding having to write here for a long time. There have been several things I have been trying to work out in my head and I didn't think that writing them down would help. Now, all I have left is this fear gnawing at me. Nothing specific, mind you, just fear creeping up once in a while. Enough of it though to make my body go crazy.

I think it might be the adverse effect of quiting smoking, cutting way down on my drinking and getting strict with my diet. I figure all those things, being overweight and high on nicotine/alcohol/food, kept me from facing the things I'm afraid of. Now that I've cleaned those things out my mind has all this free and uncluttered time to go over the dark corners. I didn't expect being sober to be such a bitch.

Don't get me wrong, it's great to have longer sections of clear headed wakefulness not limited by my body's inability to move around. I guess I wasn't ready to have all the moneters come at me. It's like they're in queue! And withdrawing while the ghosts traipse around in my head is nothing I wish on anyone. I had days when I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to kill myself or kill someone else. The biggest thing , of course, was when my father passed away. I had watched him wither away, from a strong man to someone who knew what was coming. I could see it in his eyes near the end. I could hear it in the way he talked. I felt for him. I don't think he deserved to be so scared. That I resemble him makes me scared for myself because I know that it'll happen to me too. I still wish that I could have done something to take away the fear. I guess that's the last ride that everyone has to face sooner or later.

Maybe I'll get over my fears. It might take a long time. It already feels like a very long time and its not even been a year. I have hope that things'll get better in my head. I should take up a hobby.