Mourning

this is not as heavy as the title implies, but it is heavy in its own way.

i had breakfast with my brothers today.  Jerry, Rob and Ryan.  Rick didn't come to town.  of course, neither did Loretta, so I'm not on any trip about that.  I cooked, and we ate, and we talked.  we assessed Rob, incognito of course, and he spoke about his depression, and how he tried to kill himself this year.  he seemed disjointed, but he was at least here and that was a good thing.  we took a few pics together, and i got a Tarantino-esque picture of the three of them.  then Rob took Ryan back to the parent's house, left for PA, and i cleaned up after them and talked to Syd.  i went to my mom's house this afternoon and washed and dried a load of clothes.  i visited with her for a couple of hours, though she was sleepy from meds.  i left before my dad returned home, but i have to go see him tomorrow to see if he can help me get some of those General Motors nominations again.

i had a piece of strawberry bundt cake, and i also had a sweet roll.  but i had baked wings and broccoli and cauliflower for dinner, so i feel good on carbs.  but the gym is vexing me and i need to marshal more discipline for getting my ass in gear.

i am drifting though.  memory is a vast ocean, and time makes it seem smaller, but it's not.  its just the focus grows narrower and vision dims.  i can see my grandmother's house clearly now.  i couldn't see it for years, but i can see it now and it is such a sad memory.  i can see my uncle encouraging me to read, my aunt devoid of the insanity that set in sometime while i was out of town, and my uncles and aunts and mother getting along in relative peace.  i can see these things, and they're a juxtaposition atop the modern world of dysfunction and addiction and mental disorder and resentments and bitterness.

once, before my uncle Tommy got too far into the Parkinsons, i spoke to him about the fractures of the family.  i told him that i wanted to try to make things better but i didn't know how they'd gotten so bad.  he told me, a memory from that vast ocean, "You know how to fix things.  You already know".  but i didn't know.  at least, i didn't know consciously.  now i believe that only a few more deaths will make the small remainder wake the fuck up and decide to quit being assholes to each other.  but by then, it will be too late for anything except token apologies.

my uncle George, one uncle up from Tommy, is now in St. Elizabeth in Boardman.  apparently, he had a heart attack.  perhaps more than one.  he didn't make it to the memorial or funeral for his brother.  the baby brother, Keith, was apparently put off by the fact that George didn't respond to Keith's calls for rides.  and the fucking band plays on...

Still, I thank Jehovah God for time aboveground, and for the peace that waits below.