They're saying now he passed away "peacefully" in his sleep, and that his heart stopped. Well; that's more unsettling than anything, really. Heart attacks are never peaceful; they're painful. Damn. They still don't even know what happened. It's just so ambiguous and vague that it's making me angry. What a stupid way to die... I keep thinking he'd have rather died in a sword fight or something...
Yeah. A sword fight. :)
Rissa tells me that Kristine is offended by how "cold" I'm being about this whole thing.
I wonder what makes her think she's qualified to judge the validity of *my* beliefs or compare them to hers.
I guess rationality is a *bit* too much to expect, though... ;)
"Death teaches us that life is precious. And the Goddess teaches us that life is a gift. Why squander such a precious thing with tears? Isn't it better to live every day as if it were made of gold? To show our gratitude by doing all we can to live and love?"
You know, I always thought that the summer of my graduation, I'd be backpacking across Europe.
Well, can't afford Europe. And StFX in September is gonna cost more than I've got. Europe boiled down to a Canada Day trip to Victoria to party with Jen, a later walking trip of the Coastal Islands, and maybe camping. Or something. At least something. You know; backpacking with two days' worth of clothing and sleeping on the ground and things like that. Adventure. At least a pale shadow - all I could have afforded in the first place. Living spontaneously for possibly the last time of my life. It's not as if any point still within the province is out of "call home if you need us" range.
But... well. They didn't want to do that anymore... got scared, I guess. I notice that a lot of people wish for adventure, then shrink away when it comes to them. Kristine said there'd be plenty of time, maybe we could go camping at Allouette, we'd go to Canada Day in Victoria.
Nadia said we could explore Vancouver. Shop a lot.
Kristine nodded in a satisfied way. And that would be fine. Would that satisfy me?
Nobody ever wants to say: "Hell no! You don't get it, do you?" I guess I folded. So as they cheerfully pared down our week-long backpacking trip from spontenaeity to shopping and hour-away camping trips, I sat silent and simmered.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. I bloody *hate* shopping. And it's exhausting with them. I don't find wandering around Vancouver, a city I've lived two hours away from most of my life - probably on foot since the buses are still on strike - poking around clothing stores and household-item stores and hunting out second-hand bookstores that are full of little more than antique dictionaries in any way interesting. I find that crap *boring*. Oh, yeah, it's all well and good when it's the beginning of summer and you've got all the time in the world for adventures... but I don't.
No, it's not like I'm dying or anything - but I leave in ONE MONTH. August 2nd. That's when all my adventures will be *over*. I haven't got *plenty* of time. I have ONE MONTH. To get in even the pale shadow of all the things I always dreamed I'd do. Things I'd like to do while I'm still young enough and stupid enough to still do it. While I've still got time.
And I *hate* the Allouette campsites. The lake's polluted, and the ground is invariably lumpy, and it's not really camping if you can *walk* to a diner for breakfast.
I don't have time. They still do. Kristine's only going to Saskatchewan - and even she's coming home more often than me. She's going to *Bible College*, for gods' sake. And Nadia's not even leaving home.
They still get to act like kids, for years. But come August, I'm on my own 'til I'm done school. It's not like I can go home whenever I want, or just leave when the urge takes me. I'm there for the duration. Adulthood looms a month away. For me, anyway. Not really for them.
They JUST DON'T GET IT. And I don't know how to explain it to them, like so many other things, without coming off selfish or insensitive (heard bloody enough of that for one week, thank you...) or whiney. Maybe that's a sign.
Hell. All I wanted was to celebrate my last few weeks of freedom with my friends. But they want to parcel out the summer into organized little pieces, to calmly plan everything bit by excruciatingly boring bit, to take plenty of time working things out and eventually, they think, things will get done.
And to think my mother said *I* was a procrastinator.
I don't have *time* for this. I want to have *some* adventure squeezed in before I have to take on a life with more responsibility than fun. I'd go on my own... but I can't. Maybe I'm scared too, but I don't think that's really the point.
Okay, maybe it is. But I was counting on them, damnit! I would never let them down like this. Never. By the time the chance to do this kind of thing comes around again, I'll be an adult. And adults can't just hare off on a whim. That's something kids have the exclusive on. I wanted to have at least *one* adventure while I was still young enough, open enough, unspoiled and unstagnated enough to appreciate it.
I admit I'm afraid of growing up... but even my stories can't keep adulthood at bay forever. And I was kinda hoping to put another brick in that big wall this summer. But I guess that's shot.
If I said I was heartbroken, would that be too mushy? Probably.
Screw it. :P
This is just a note to myself to make sure I remember to write down what I'm thinking right now. Something just hit me with a euphoric sort of ring to it. Back in an hour.
So around eight, I had this epiphany - I figured out why I feel the way I do about all this. Maybe it was more of a revelation... but I realised the reasons behind it.
One more time where Subreality serves as a core reason behind something intrinsically good. I should bake Kielle some cookies or something... I realised that, wherever and however and whoever he is now, he's happy. I always believed that when you die, you go where you most believe you should be. Somewhere your dreams come true. I really, really do believe that. I believe it's true for everyone. Even me. Even people who don't believe in it themselves. It may very well be my one and only definite, positive belief.
He's probably Saving Damsels and Righting Great Wrongs as we speak. I can just imagine... which is why I'm writing a story for him... it's also why I now have this sort of floaty, happy, peaceful feeling about it all. Before it was at least bare certainty and frustration at everyone else's anxiety and unhappiness. I guess I've always reacted to the emotions of others a great deal, maybe even more than my own. That's one thing Shan does get. It's a kind of unintentional empathy. But anyway, it's all gone now. No more frustration, no more annoyance, no more indignity at them being angry at me. I get it now.
They're upset, as most people become, because they don't have him anymore. It's not that he's gone and they won't see him again - that happens every day on lower levels of living. It's not the separation, it's the knowing he's not coming back. It's sort of selfish on a subconscious level, but as it's subconscious... well. It's a kind of self-defense response. I don't have it, or at least I've tamed it a little. Transmogrification, you might say. Is that a word?
All right, so yes, I'm not usually a big fan of happy-floaty. I don't deal with it well; funny reactions I get, like some people and dairy products. :P But it's okay in small doses, I suppose. It's certainly doing all right by me right now.
Something I understood this afternoon, talking with Rissa, is that a lot of people get so upset over this kind of thing that they forget what they believe. They all, one and all, have beliefs that say death's not necessarily a sad thing, that it means the person gets to go somewhere happy. As do I - though they're a little different and a good deal more liberal than theirs. But I suppose grief throws that off a bit; makes people doubt when it should really strengthen their faith.
And why isn't mine shaken? I guess I know better. Or maybe I'm just more stubborn than the rest of them. But I do know that I don't really feel sad anymore - a bit wistful, sure. I'm sorry I won't see him again. But it isn't like he's really gone forever - and wherever he is, he's happy. I guess I knew that all along.
And the realisation just left me feeling so *happy*! (Is that bad? I feel as if it ought to be... :P) I'll give them this much - faith does make you stronger. Just not their faith, for me. I think I get it now. You just have to sort of hold on with both hands, no matter what tries to pry you away.
I have this awful feeling, though, that things will just keep trying. I'm still upset about this summer - but at least now I can weather this storm without maiming/killing/yelling at my friends any more. Let 'em deal how they wish. But I'm sticking by *my* ways - they're the only ways that are any good to me.
Is it bad that I feel like dancing? :)