Mar 18

 Captain we are maintaining an altitude of ehhhhhhhh copeable.

Heh.

I can feel myself fluctuating in a day. Running along an edge of mehh fuck it not good, ill. Dipping in a little. Dipping out. But better than I have been.

A bit like sitting under the sword of Damocles ( which to save you looking it up if you're not super familiar with it, is the old tale (related by Cicero) of someone thinking kingship must be sooo cool, I'd love to be the king, it's easy, fuck you, so the king (Dionysius) lets said dude (Damocles) be the king - but suspends a sword above the throne attached by a tiny thread, with the proviso that you can't get out of the chair. Upshot is dude learns, hey, shit, it's not great to be the king. The morale of the story being waiting for the other shoe to drop. The burden of responsibility. Anxiety. Worrying about the future. Yada. )

Such things if carried on too long are wont to embue you with a serious mental health problem. Anxiery. Phobias. Paranoia. Various inabilities to cope.

Think Pavlov, but in a really negative way.

So thats nice.

Athena has been showing her age a bit of late. Slower. Sleepier. Not great.

And then today she bounces back. Full of beans. Barky. Runs up stairs. Jumps out the window.

Uh huh.

So it goes with us all. Up. Down. Up. Down.

My brother related to me this week that my Mom was once again on, eh, for want of a better word, death watch. Not good. Another suspected infection. She's been on anti biotics at this point since.. December. It's the pattern of someone struggling to keep on top of the daily barrage of infections and damage that we encounter. The sign of a body slowly sinking beneath the waves.

She comes up, less often now. Then goes down. Like a wave function.

And its those troughs that get you. And one day, that trough is just a little too low. A little too much strain.

I see it in myself. I see it in Athena. I see it in my mom.

It makes sense. Everything in us and nature is a rhythm. Summer. Winter. Day. Night. Fight. Rest. Hungry. Satiated. Nothing is ever static. Always ebbing and flowing.

My mom has been circling the drain for a long time. Struggling with the MS. She suffers a lot. But puts a super brave face on it. Crazy brave. It costs her. When we used to talk about such things. There was underneath the bravery someone that just wanted it to end. To be loved. Hugged. But. She gritted her teeth. And fought on. Amazing. And nuts. And heartbreaking.

Life can be very cruel.

I suspect she wont make it out of 2022. But then. I have written her off before. And she defies expectations. She is a fighter. And a little of that is because of her interaction with her own mom when she died. My mom never forgave her for "giving up". I can remember her saying that. She's just given up. With anger. And upset. Personally. I don't think that was true. Her mom was tired. Tired in the sense of being old, and ill, and yada. Age. And I think my moms angry reaction was to her dying. Understandable. An emotion out of grief. The same fiddle my dad plays on. No sad. Only rage. Anyway. I suspect this makes my tough mom even more.. bloody minded. She will not just "give up" like her own mom did. Even though. She didn't really.

I have thought about what happens when she goes. Like all of us, she is a flawed person. With a lot of missteps and questionable choices and behaviour in her past. Her going will be a complicated thing for my siblings to deal with. A complicated often antagonstic relationship, more often than not tempered by the forgiving and understanding of my siblings - rather than the other way around. I think. Slowly. Time undoes the sting of the damage. But. There's a lot there to dwell on. Complicated.

Nevertheless. Despite what my siblings say. It's going to be a wrench. Of course.

And from my perspective. Again. A reminder of the massive cruel waste that death is. All that experience and unique context.. snuffed out. All that struggle and pain to achieve something. Gone.

I find it most sad of all to recall her memories of her being a girl. The things we talked about her remembering. The simple things she liked doing. Hopes. Happiness. To me. It is awful. That girl, suddenly not there anymore. Brutally sad. What is the fucking point of it all.

Fuck death. 

Rage against the dying of the light.

I think. All of us have already got closure with her passing though. I know also my mom has more than got closure with it. She is ready. DNR signed. She wants to go. No more hospitals she has said.

She has not really been herself for a long time. And her true fire spitting self.. for a decade or more.

There was a time, somewhere in the process of when MS was truly biting, but, she could still be cared for at home. That we used to talk a lot. Almost every day. Sometimes for an hour or more. We got to know each other a lot better. And talked of cool things. And dark things. Meaning of life stuff. Death. It is. Ironically. Probably the deepest and most.. meaningful set of conversations I have had with any of my family. And she had a capacity to.. deal with it. Strong. But also on the quiet. Smart. And independent. In another age I suspect my mom would have been an utter kick ass feminist. She does not suffer fools gladly. She also readily expanded into philsophy and all sorts of crap I would talk about her. And she got it. She understood. And changed. Remarkable, really. It makes me wonder what kind of a person she would have been if she could have flexed her brain properly at a much earlier age.

My dad is of a similar bent. When I stand back and look at it, they're both very smart. Never really acknowledged for it. Never tested on it. But smart. Over my decades of interactions with people. How quickly they pick things up. How quickly they join the dots. Eh. My parents are, or were, edgy. Quick.

I never really realised it until I had a lot more data. You don't tend to recognise the shit you're brought up with. It's just... normal. For you.

I think. My siblings will be hit harder than they imagine when she dies. I could be wrong. Me. Eh. One of my flaws is endlessly scanning the horizon for shit. And then experiencing it. Before it happens. So her passing. Is. Processed a lot for me. And I know her mind. There will be some aspect of relief in there for her. It will not be all bad from her perspective. She is very tired. And I get that. Oh fuck do I get that. Sweet release. But still. It upsets me. Death sucks.

I'm not entirely sure what it will do to my dad. I think it will destroy him and untether the last ties he has to the world. He is already floating amongst the fairies in many ways. And our wonderful cursed genes do a number on his dark mood.

But there is a chance it will not. There is a chance it will free him to go explore and do things.

I think it is a small chance. I think more likely, just the complete destruction of a pattern he has had for 50 years will be his end. He does not do well with change. And my mom is currently the only thing in his life giving him a schedule.

I think.. scanning the horizon for shit... which.. is really something I shouldn't do, and have been teaching myself not to do... in the next year or so. I will lose both parents and Athena.

In a way, I will also lose a lot of my ties to the world.

And like a faint mirror image of my dad, I am not sure which way my path will then lead.

All things end. Sooner or later. No ifs, buts or maybes. There is a beginning. And there is an end.

Allegedly, you are supposed to enjoy the time inbetween.

Heh.

What things matter ? What brings you joy ? How do you spend that time, be it, long or short.

I have no real answers. Help others. But perhaps more fundamental than that. Enjoy the sun on your face. Sitting on a nice day, listening to the breeze. Enjoying the warmth. And that you are there. That's it.

Positives

Nice day today. Sun is out. Cold as balls though. I think I will do some art noodling today. Properly. An animation. Will be cool. I think.

Be happy my people. Be healthy. Life is short. Do the thing. Enjoy what you can. Help those around you that struggle if and when you can.