well since my other blogs are just plain depressing, I thought I'd have a little fun posting something I was reluctant to in my testing grounds thread...since it's immensely immature and, frankly, perverted. hah. but yeah, I'm overwhelmingly bored and resorted to experimenting by posting poorly made designs out of mana symbols.
I kinda wish there was a private setting, I put too much time into making this as a joke and now I'm uneasy about discarding all that work. damn.
hopefully I won't get in trouble for it, since it's just me being stupid and acting like I'm 6. I'll put it in a spoiler to protect the eyes of unsuspecting readers.
don't look at the spoiler unless you want to see a horribly crude ***** made of mana symbols.
well it's nearly 2am, too friggin' early to call a friend. I'm so restless, I feel the need to tell someone, somewhere, anywhere...at the moment I don't care that this isn't the appropriate place to do it, I'll probably delete this as soon as I snap out of whatever daze or shock I'm in, but 45 minutes ago I found out that my grandpa just passed away, right around 1:05am. it's surreal, I was just with him at his bedside not long before then, and now he's gone? it's unfair. I wanted to be with him when he passed, to be holding his hand, let him know I'm there for him and love him. I can't even explain how it makes me feel--the fact we were sleeping just on the other side of his house, that he was alone in his bedroom...that he died alone there and I wasn't with him--anyone wasn't with him--to see him through in his last moments? it's so hard to accept.
he shouldn't have died alone. no one should have to die alone.
I don't own any crap like an lj or whatever the hell people use today, this is my only blog-type thing available to me, so I'm gonna whine a little on it.
I'm just trying to not be pissed or depressed that my grandpa only has a few weeks left. he's had liver cancer on and off for the past 6 or so years, it's come back now and he refused treatment--I'm fairly sure it's because my nana has passed, and he just hasn't been the same since she left. he knows how I feel about him giving up, so he's spent the last year sort of preparing me for all of this, and it's made it easier if that's at all possible. I'm accepting it, and now that it's close to the end, he's decided to die at home rather than at a hospital, and I've been at his bedside. he's my last grandparent left. he's not in pain, so I know I have nothing to complain about--he's lived a long and healthy life for the most part, and he's not afraid of dying, which makes me less afraid of him leaving us. I've been trying to be as positive as possible about this because he really wants me to, but it's difficult to find any positives when a close family member is dying. sometimes I get mad at him even though I don't want to be, because he tries to point out any possible positives, like I'll get enough money to pay for more than half of a downpayment on a house, or he sometimes even jokes that I can "sleep better at night with this $10,000 bedroom set". I made him sad when I retorted that I'd rather spend more time with him than get anything out of his will, and it made him sad, which made me regret voicing the truth--he's always been well aware that's how I've felt, but I think he tries to forget *he's* leaving us behind and instead focuses on *what* he's leaving us with. he's a funny, old, stubborn italian man, and I've clung to him ever since I was old enough to stand. it's just unfathomable to see him as he is now, I've never known him to be weak, let alone unable to stand or turn himself on his bed. he was a tailor, and a wonderful gardener. I remember being 4 and helping him pick his 20+ year heirloom-seeded cucumbers, tomatoes, peas, green beans. he had beautiful, beautiful roses, his gated front garden was full of rose bushes, and they filled the block with this enchanting scent. those bushes must be ancient, and when he and my nana moved they only took 10 bushes with them out of the 30 or so, but they were still the same bushes from my childhood. I think those bushes are going to be the thing I'll be happiest with when it comes to what he's leaving behind for us, it'll be something for me to have that he planted and worked hard on year after year, something I can look after and watch live and grow to remind me of him and what he's meant to me all this time.