Kat (starfyer) wrote,
Kat
starfyer

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Sorry, and all that jazz

Okay, sometime soon I swear I'll write about what's happened this whole "vacation". Well.. you know, most of it.

I just haven't been able to write anything anyone would want to read lately, because it seems there's this veil that's draped over everything I do and think and am, and it's kinda heavy, and it's not quite clear. Everything's a little fuzzy, and I'm always a little sluggish, though that might have more to do with the curious happenstance that I can't sleep through the night or sleep *well* here when I do sleep, for whatever reason.

Last night I acquired a poster that used to belong to my grandfather. He has always told me I could have it.. it's of a kitten, clinging to a tree branch by it's paws, dangling there in space. The caption at the bottom reads "OH SHIT" in big block letters. I bought a duplicate a few years ago at a poster shop in Madison, but of course.. it wasn't a duplicate. It wasn't my grandfather's. So.. I finally do own this poster, although I'd give it back in less than a heartbeat if my grandfather could be alive and healthy again. I know that's a silly and/or stupid thing to say, but it's what I feel. It still hurts so badly to know he's gone.. every time I remember I just sit here and cry. I look at the poster and cry. I go to my grandparents' (now my grandmother's) apartment and I walk through the rooms he used to spend time in where some of his things still linger and I fight back tears so the whole family doesn't catch me. I don't understand why no one else seems sad about it.. I mean, I know they ARE, but no one has really showed it at all. And I know we all deal in different ways, and that's cool, but I've been hiding everything, and no one knows how badly I'm hurting, so it seems like no one cares. And maybe I should just tell them.

My grandfather was such a special person. Everyone who knew him knew how warm and loving and amazing he was... how he made every single person he talked to feel special. I will always miss sleepovers there as a child, and how he made us his special "Pop-pop juice" whenever we visited, and how he always gave me "big fat juicy ones" when he kissed me on the cheek. I have a picture of him, laughing and happy.. and even though the last time I saw him he looked ghastly in a hospital bed, laughing and happy is how I'll always remember him. Because 99% of the time... he was.
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