I'm doing this thing right now where I sit on my parent's sofa in Philadelphia at two in the morning because I fell asleep at 8 pm and woke up at 10 completely missing Masterpiece Theater's Casanova on one of the five channels (via antenna!) my parents get on their tv and now I'm not going to fall asleep until four o'clock in the morning. Why am I here? Because there is more dying. I guess this is what happens to people around you when you become older but it seems that there is just so much cancer in my family right now that it makes me wonder if this is how we are all going to go in the not too distant future.
I got here too late. The person that I knew was already gone- in a morphine coma, not dead yet- but nothing like the person he was, and although I knew to expect that from past experience, it is still so upsetting to see. There is guilt of course, for moving away and not seeing him more often, and anger and a bit of jealousy, because I didn't get to see him like I knew him again. Also helplessness, and something else I can't pinpoint. So tomorrow, I guess I can cook, or clean or something to help out, and try not to feel selfish because I don't want to be here. I don't have to go back to the hospital again, but I'd rather be at home, of course. I'd just rather be at home.
It's hard, I know. Also strangely refreshing to see people all around you emoting. Emoting! (Comment this)