Music I�m listening to tonight: Staind Black Rain It�s Been A While (acoustic) Four Walls == Extreme More Than Words == CCR Have You Ever Seen The Rain == Ugly Kid Joe Cat�s In The Cradle == BHTatM Circle == Dream Theater Purple Rain (instrumental) == Hans Zimmer Rain Man == Clint Black Like The Rain == Black Hawk I Sure Can Smell The Rain == Toby Keith I Wanna Talk About Me == Crow Sound Track It Can�t Rain All The Time == Satriani Tears In Rain == Oakenfeld Sash, Delirium, Everytime, New Born, Dream Universe, Dream Traveler Time, Trance Amoeba Assassin == Clapton Knockin On Heaven�s Door, I Could Change The World, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Story of Us, River Of Tears (live, extended version)

So, here I am on another day with yet more nothingness to press upon you fine folks. Or something.

I was awakened from a nap by my sister who is having computer problems. Every time she tried copying her work onto a disk in order to print it off somewhere else, she was getting frustrated because the formats of the two machines didn�t mesh.

Today, I walked her through the process of saving to a different format. She was happy and a happy sister is a good thing.

She told me about a phone call she had with my brother. This time, this one day, she actually listened to him. He needed it. He found out either today or over this weekend, (his birthday was Saturday) that his older brother died. Ten days ago.

They didn�t bother to tell Dan. They didn�t bother to even give him a phone call. Not even a brief Email.

*smiles sadly*

I hurt for my brother. I know that he doesn�t consider me a part of his family, and that�s okay. There�s no blood relation there and we haven�t spoken to each other in more than three years. He hasn�t visited us in any way, shape or form, for nearly six years. He truly divorced our entire family when he divorced his wife. That was really hard to take for Mom, cause she loves him. Still loves him.

He never saw that. He still doesn�t see that, I don�t think.

Regardless, I know what it�s like to find out, after the fact, that someone you�re related to has died. That happened with my paternal grandmother. (Grandmother on my father�s side)

I remember walking with Jim along Ruston Way in Tacoma on the nice side of the port. We were talking and walking by the water. It was February or March if I�m not mistaken. Perhaps March. It was late, or early depending on your perspective, about 1am or so. We were talking about me.

Talking about my size and how if I couldn�t get slender on my own, maybe surgery would help. We talked for a long time about it. Around 8am or so, we decided to drive out to my Grandmother�s place, on the outside chance we�d get to run into Charlie, my father, to talk about it with him and get his perspective.

We drove all the way up to Silverdale and got to the house. It was locked up tight and looked like no one had lived there for a while. I was very confused. Jim and I shrugged at each other and got back into the car, driving back home.

A few days later, I told my folks what had happened and Mom called Charlie to find out what was going on. It turned out that Gram-Craig had died almost six months previous.

I felt so... stupid. And so... ignored. Charlie hadn�t even bothered to try using directory assistance to let me know she had died. *shrugs* I didn�t feel depressed that she died. She had a very hard life, was widowed twice. She�d been married to very violent, abusive men. She raised her boys, two of them, as best she could, but she�d smoked all her life, had emphysema and had to breathe through a tube.

It was good she had finally died. She could finally be at peace. It�s important to me that those who live life through sickness, finally get to be free of pain and disease. That doesn�t mean that I want them to die sooner than later, but when they do die, it isn�t some great, sorrow-filled time. For me it�s more of a bitter-sweet acceptance of the way life is. They�re at peace. That�s the part I focus on.

Regardless. During the next few months, my own life sort of fell apart. My Maternal Grandfather was sick with face and throat cancer. It hurt me big time when he finally died, as I�d been asking, patiently, to come down to visit him before he died. Mom had gone down to visit him in March.

I asked every week for about a month and a half. I was told �Next week� each time. Finally, I called one weekend and asked if I could come out. I was told to wait again. I hung up. Three days later we got the phone call that he had died and I should come that weekend, but only for the viewing and the funeral.

I suppose that I could feel slighted by not being welcome, but hey, it�s a tough time and Neva had all she could do to keep her own wits about her. *shrugs* She was so far removed from my own blood lines it didn�t even matter. She was just married to my grandfather. Or rather, I just happened to be his grandchild in her eyes. *shrugs*

I spent that weekend, in June, feeling very alone and scared and... unwanted. I stayed as small as possible, hiding away from sight as much as possible. I didn�t eat unless someone put food in my hands. I didn�t move much from my �spot�. I just... *shrugs* I didn�t talk unless I was spoken to.

I remember looking at Neva, waiting for a time when I could, somehow, not be in the way. I got her attention and asked her what song she wanted me to sing for the funeral. (I was supposed to do so) She chose Wind Beneath My Wings as it was one of his favorites.

I don�t think she had any faith in my ability to sing. Grandpa talked about it often. But I think she was of the opinion that I was going to have this little girl voice. *shrugs*

We went to the viewing. All the family went together. I remember looking at my Grandfather there, in that casket. I remember the look on his face and to this day, I tear up thinking about it. That was the only time I was in danger of losing it throughout the weekend I was in Neva�s presence. Just looking at him and knowing... Knowing that if I called his name loud enough, he would wake up.

He didn�t look dead. At the time, I thought I saw his chest move. There was some part of me that knew he would get up, wink at me, and we�d just walk hand in hand down the aisle and go out to lunch somewhere, laughing about all the old ladies fussing and nattering on.

But he didn�t.

Anyway, the next day we went back to the funeral home place for the actual service. I got to sit up in the balcony, alone, so that I didn�t have to be down there, amidst a group of people who didn�t want me, watching my grandfather... the only grandfather I�d actually ever known... so I didn�t have to watch everyone around me saying good bye to someone who was just faking. I had somehow convinced myself that it was easier to believe Grandpa had waited until everyone was gone and had just gotten up and left. Since they had a closed casket service, I could fantasize about him just wanting a different life...

It wasn�t true, but it was easier for me to get through my responsibility with that fantasy in my mind. It then came my time to sing. The acoustics were incredible. I opened my mouth and the music came out... it just... *shrugs* The notes were dead on (no pun intended *chuckles at her pathetic attempt to lighten the mood*) my voice was strong and the words flowed out over the crowd as if there were some special effects thing going on.

Neva was complimented many, many times on my performance. She was told by more than one person that they wanted the number of the professional she had hired. I don�t remember singing. I remember opening my mouth and watching the people below and infront of me. I remember hearing gasps. I remember hearing wails of emotional anguish. But I wasn�t connected to any of it. I felt like some automaton, waiting for Grandpa to peek through the curtain behind me, whisper me over and then take me by the hand and take me away from that place.

My Grandpa was the embodiment of what a cowboy is to me. And I miss him so very, very much.

Anyway... *chuckles softly* Back on track.

So, Grandpa died in June and I got back to Washington. I was really down. I spent long, long hours with Jim at the waterfront. I didn�t talk and he didn�t push me. He just waited there for me, allowing me to deal with my pain the way I could. He was always so patient with me. Always so quiet and gentle.

Anyway, I was miserable and Jim was going to be leaving for Bellevue. He�d gotten a programming job and finally had completely kicked the drugs he�d been addicted to for the previous 10 or so years. Yeah, I was 21, he was 33. So, in July, he moved to Bellevue and I moved to Belfair (Bremmerton), choosing to try running away to my biological father. *rolls her eyes*

I went back home for a visit during the first week of August. I had intended to call Jim and make a time for us to meet up. I spent the weekend with Mom and Dad. I got a phone call either Saturday night or Sunday morning... Jim had died Friday night. He just went to sleep and never woke up. His funeral was the following week. If you want anything of his, let his mother know how to contact you.

*shakes her head*

I hit my knees.

At least the last few times with Jim were spent happily. Or rather... well... We were comfortable with each other. We were happy with each other. I wasn�t dating anyone else. He wasn�t dating anyone else. We were planning on being together for quite a long while.

We were thinking about marriage.

Just gone.

I sang Wind Beneath My Wings at his funeral too. It hurt more. Maybe because I knew he wasn�t coming back? Maybe because I knew my Grandpa wasn�t coming back either. Maybe because Jim was so young and had spent so much time fighting to overcome his drug addiction and he had finally done it... then for what? To die?

I don�t know.

I really started disconnecting then.

Sorry, had to go off and think about something else there for a moment. Appropriate after the ending sentence? Yeah, I thought so. *chuckles*

Anyway, I spent the next few months attempting to wrap my mind around the recent deaths in my life. Jim, Grandpa, Grandma, me. �92 was a bad year for me. Ho, damn, I just realized... that was a decade ago. *laughs* Yes, Jennifer is a little slow sometimes.

So, I know from pain. I understand what my brother might be going through. I know what it�s like to feel like your only flesh and blood doesn�t want you enough to tell you when your relative dies. *shrugs* Been there, done that.

I wish my brother well. I truly wish him well. I want him to have everything his heart desires, as long as it is healthy for his children too. *chuckles* Yeah, sticking my little qualifiers in there.

But seriously, I want him to be happy. I want him to feel satisfied and like he has accomplished something. I know that he doesn�t care about me at all. I know that he doesn�t consider me family. That�s okay. He doesn�t have to. But I want him to look around him and find something beautiful. I want him to see good things and joy and peace and prosperity. I want him to be satisfied with what he has, yet still have the motivation to better himself.

I love my brother. He just doesn�t love me. That�s okay, He doesn�t have to even like me. I�m happy with who and what I am. I hope he finds that soon.

He�s spent so much of his life feeling slighted and mistreated and abused. He has felt as if the world fucked him over. He�s one of the people you�d see on Springer saying that his life would have turned out differently if he hadn�t been abused or mistreated as a child.

*shrugs* Sure it would. But that doesn�t mean it would be better or worse. And, for that matter, what�s stopping you from having a great life now? Certainly not your childhood. You�re 33, Dan. Wake up. You are responsible for what happens in your life, not someone else. You can believe that others are doing to you, you can believe that others are responsible for what you think and feel. It doesn�t work that way, though.

You ultimately make the choice to feel a certain way. All someone else can do is provide you with a stimulus. How you react to that stimulus is your choice. Take your life off of autopilot. Start making your own choices, your own decisions, start acting, rather than reacting.

I love you Dan, you�ve always been my brother. Though it may not mean jack shit to you, you will always be my brother. By choice!

Stay safe. I worry for you.

Okay, so he�s never going to read that, he�s never gonna see it, he�s never gonna care about it, so what. I believe what I said and if, by some fluke, he ever stumbles upon it, then good for him.

My sister is going to be getting internet access here in the near future. I�m not sure when, but it�s coming up soon. When she does, I�m going to give her the URL to this diary once again. She�s had it before, and she started her own diary, but I don�t think she ever really wrote in it.

Anyway, I don�t expect her to actually read this. Specifically, because I�m quite verbose and she tends to lose interest if there are too many written words. I completely understand. For myself, I have to be in a specific kind of mood before I can read something as verbose as my diary. *laughs*

Yes, folks, it�s true. I�ve sat down before my computer, intent upon reading through my entire diary. I was bored within two entries. *rolls her eyes* Isn�t that just the way it is? I�m sure that when I get to be about 35, I�ll want to look back and see what I�ve done with my life, see how I�ve changed and stuff. But then again, I�m not sure about that.

I was certain I�d never make it a full two years writing this diary. I probably shouldn�t say that as it isn�t two years until March. But yes, as of March, I will have been writing in this diary for two years. And before March I will have reached 600 entries. Actually, I�ll probably hit 640 or so entries by the two year mark. This is 572 for those of you paying attention. Of course, if I keep writing long-ass entries, I may just have to start making the doubles. That would definitely make it look like I was writing a little less. *smirks* Or not.

Okay, I�m losing interest and I�m babbling. Time to stop. *chuckles*

If something hits me later, I might post again, but somehow I doubt it. *chuckles* Just the way life is sometimes.

Peace unto thy hearts, all.