Time

Lots of irritating things happening at work at the moment - no new news there, then! - all of which are causing me problems. Not ideal, but it has been that way for a while and I just need to get on with it. Lots of people have problems, including work-related issues. I suppose it makes you stronger.

On top of everything else, though, the six month anniversary of my Dad's death is approaching. It's 3rd September (calender-wise, at least); I've already decided to take the day off work as a holiday, as it's a Monday. My Dad died on a Saturday, so I suppose one could view this Saturday as the anniversary... I don't expect it matters either way, really, and it's hardly worth dwelling on the mathematical accuracy of the date; I think about him roughly once every few minutes every single day and I'm not sure that that will ever change, to be honest. The pain may fade somewhat, but the reality won't.

I find it incredibly hard to believe that my Dad - yes, MY Dad! (the same chap who was here one minute saying that he had just one more weekend to work and then he'd take a day off and have a holiday) - had a berry aneurysm which we didn't know about and, on top of that, that it caused a haemorrhage and he died within a matter of minutes and we didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. It's one of those things that always happens to other people, isn't it? It's never you - until it is you. I hear so many sad stories about things which have happened to other people; I wish I could un-do them all. There are loads of blogs around at the moment detailing stories of people who have died (some very young) of various cancers and illnesses and, in some cases, detailing the ongoing struggle of those who live on against the odds.

Time is a funny thing; I'm 35, but it seems like yesterday that I was 15. I expect my Dad felt the same way about time; he always said he didn't feel 56 (he was a few weeks away from being 57) and he seemed more or less the same in terms of personality. I know he was sad that he was getting older because he felt that time was "running out" and he mentioned that to me a few times. Notwithstanding that, I know he didn't "feel" any older mentally and he kept saying that it was just the physical elements and human body which let you down! I can't imagine what he would have said if he'd known what we know now - that he had a matter of days to live, rather than a matter of years (the latter of which he found moderately depressing enough in itself if he chose to dwell upon it).

I feel very sorry for my mum and brother, both of whom seem like lost souls. I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and it will all be a dream... or, at least, that it won't seem so terribly unjust and bizarre. I know that will not happen, of course, and I am left with reality - which is what I must deal with. For that reason, the things which are happening at work are simply too much on top of everything else - I could give it all up tomorrow. It is tempting, but I'm terrible at making decisions if I'm not 150% sure that it is the right thing or the closest thing to the "right thing"; I analyse everything to death a thousand times over and try to think of numerous possible outcomes (that's legal training for you - it almost makes you incapable of doing anything spontaneously). I think it's safe to say that I'm just "playing it by ear" at the moment. I'm taking each day as it comes in every respect.

"You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today; and then one day you find, ten years have gone behind you; no-one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun" - (c) Pink Floyd, "Time".