Dagny

I want to say that I'll be seeing you around

but I won't because you're gone now.

You're flesh and bone and vacant soul.

And I keep wishing I had said more when you still could.

And I wish I'd known you better because now you're reduced to legends.

I wish that you weren't the last thing my grandfather had from before he had us

because I'm sure this will take more of a toll than he is able to pay.

You looked too small, so frail in that bed.

Your poor feet you could no longer feel.

And all your family from around the world had come because that is what you meant to us.

That the world is small and you go to where you are needed, if only to bring the soup.

You mean tire swings to us, and skinned knees, and crokinole, and fights between siblings, and hidden chocolate stashes, and mysterious houses to us.

You meant fun and laughter to us.

And you meant a hug whenever we needed it whether we knew it or not.

You're another dead woman I feel I've made a promise to. A promise you'd never have held me to in the first place.

I should have kissed you more. I should have heard more stories.

2011 fucking sucks

My aunt is in the hospital. She will die this week.

She is my grandfather's last surviving sibling. Her death will usher him out with her.

My mother's first husband just died. He was also my father's best friend.

It's killing both of them.

My mother is sick. And keeps getting bad news. I worry that she's going to get cancer and die too.

And there's nothing I can do because I am working so much.

I'm working so much because I need the money.

I'm behind on everything.

I keep spreading myself thinner and thinner just to keep up appearances. I wonder when I'm going to break.

This has been the worst year ever and it's not even winter yet. It's going to get colder and darker and more lonely for me, and how selfish is it that I'm so concerned about how I feel about everything?

Fuck.