Friday, 21 September 2012

There Really Aren't the Words

It seems some kind of sick joke that the universe has played on me. That as soon as I discover the realisation that my life is in a pretty good place right now, this happens. 

About a month ago now, my friend’s dad died. Mark Kirman. He was a lovely man and out of my friend’s parents, he was one of whom I got on the best with. He burnt me a copy of an Artic Monkeys album. The grief I felt was overwhelming. I knew my own was merely a ripple compared to the resounding, plunging depths that of my friend and her family but it was more so the whole situation that got to me. How my friend had been ill and was just getting better. Her 7 year old sister. The funeral. The family photos. Going to their house, of which I have always felt at home.

Then I tried to notice the happy things again, I tried to focus on the good of life rather than the bad. I got an owl keyring especially made me from Etsy, which I loved. I got my money back from an insurance claim after sending a letter of appeal – which gave me a confidence in my writing I really needed at the time. I went out for a meal with friends before we went back to university and the vibes of contentment seemed a little shakey but there none the same.

And I got work experience at the Guardian.
I can’t even begin to describe what that means to me.

It was my Dad’s birthday – I made him cry with my card since I wanted to make it clear just how much I love and appreciate him. I worked at the flower show with a friend I hadn’t seen much over summer. I got tips and paid and felt the worry of money ease itself away from my shoulders. I had a Thai meal my last night before university at home and thought this year would be better than the next.

It won’t be.

On Tuesday, I found out that my friend from the flat below – Suki (Tom Russell but he was our Suki) died. Seeing it written like that makes it hit home a lot harder. He was one of the loveliest guys. He gave this presence to the flat of pure joy, making everyone laugh – most of the time unintentionally.
I really don’t know what to say. I don't know if I can say any more about him. My words can't describe him well enough. 

Having to deal with a parent death and a friend dying at the age of 19, I don’t know how to cope. I find myself questioning life and what we’re doing here and we’re all just going to die anyway so what’s the point in it all? It's terrifying to see that pattern of thought so clearly etched on my brain.

And then, I think back to the past few days. We’ve been at the lads’ house most of the time since we found out. The other day, there was a 4 person spoon. We all had a beer. We just sat and chatted – there was surprising outbursts of laughter and for a second everything felt normal. And then we remembered. And then it was quiet. But during those hours spent at their house, I can feel ourselves becoming closer with one another. We’re sticking together and growing stronger as a friendship group because of it.
I can’t tell you if life has a meaning, if we have a purpose. 

I can tell you it’s not fair. It’s horrible. There’s no way of getting over it, I’m just trying to get through it – cherishing those close to me as I do. Maybe that’s what we’re meant to do in life. Just hold on to one another. 

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