Thursday 27 August 2009

Page Twenty-five

Turners Falls

More haunting.

For my animals and me, for my life that was taken. And also for a housemate we had once, who died on a September 5th. One week left to live at this point in that year. I’d wanted him so badly to live, I’d wanted a good friendship (not a romance) between us so badly, because we had some important things in common. He had had a terrible loss (not the first one in his life), and I’d hoped that my friendship and even having the animals to love would be a help to him. Nothing worked. He was 42 when he died, just days before his 43rd birthday. I wander back to that time, to Rick, when his death date gets near. Rick, like just about everyone else, was mean to me too, in his own particular way, so I can’t think of him without bitterness. But I also can’t think of him without sorrow and regret. He died way too young. There were few people who tried to help him after his crushing loss, but he didn’t give anything much of a chance. I went to him with a different approach than others had used, and I’d hoped that different approach might work. More failure to add to my list.

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(orion from a greeting card)

 

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