I’m supposed to be reading Carrying the Fire right now whilst it’s quiet but I’m feeling distracted. I had a little look at some of my older posts on WordPress and I rarely wrote anything with any substance. So, one of my current thoughts is that I’d really like to work on that. To write about interesting topics, to write more. Darren’s WordPress offers so much now he’s gone and also when he wasn’t gone of course but now it offers the same things as before but it’s also priceless. It offers me his humour, his frustration-I’ve spoken a little about Darren’s frustration to people lately and how it could be entertaining, over the top but also, usually, really relatable, at least to me it was. His writing is also painful but the kind of pain that is okay. It’s okay to read it in 8 months time and feel distraught. I always appreciated this form of communication. I always thought about how special it is that a person can write their thoughts down like I’m doing right now and another person can see more of that person than you could during normal, verbal conversation. It’s deeper. Once a person writes and it’s read by someone, it’s a special kind of communication. I found it comforting knowing that Darren read my ramblings. I don’t think I really filtered my thoughts because doing so would take away what is essentially extraordinary about writing your thoughts down. So, I’d really like to put more into my writing. I’d like it to comfort my daughters when they’re older if I die young. I’ve been thinking about what we leave behind a lot which is difficult because what am I leaving behind? Sure, my daughters will probably think of me fondly, I can’t imagine them not. It’s not about being hard on yourself, it’s about being realistic. Realistically, as it stands I’m not leaving much. I don’t care for people telling me “of course you are, don’t say that”, I’m not. I know that. But I can change that. I can make meaningful friendships. I can do good in the world. And the Darren in me kinda says yeah, doing good I’m the world is great but it doesn’t have an impact in the grand scheme of the vastness of the universe so just do whatever makes you happy.
One thing has become clear to me, I’m going to be a peace-keeper. I am anyway but I’m going to actively be a peace-keeper. Is forceful peace-keeping still..peaceful? I felt like I was last night when things got a little angry. I felt like the voice of reason and my voice is unfortunately not as powerful as my brother’s was but rationality is definitely underrated in my family. I will continue the rationality that you carried everywhere.
The other thing I’m distracted by is death and grief and all that jazz. Specifically, how you would deal with it and how you might think some of what people are doing now you’re gone is silly and pointless. I get it, I hear you. But I like to think you’d also understand that people deal with this pain and loss in these silly ways that don’t really make sense because it’s comforting. I think you’d have liked the pint left for you on the bar of The Vine with a sign saying “Darren’s pint”, I loved it. I think you’d like that a bunch of us stayed at The Vine till we were told to leave because they were closing. I also think you’d like the music and the card games. I’m sure you’d love the idea of a bike ride in your honour, an event that brings a small group of people together. Maybe we’ll throw some pennies towards a charity too. But some of it you’d think was pointless like leaving flowers by your door. The thing is, on the morning of the 30th July Mom read something horrific to us and the pain came out of me in an animalistic noise. And now I’ve said that I feel that I must write down what broke me further. She read comments on the Rugeley Rocks Facebook page, someone said it was devastating that this man died alone outside without his family. That hurt like hell. So I took flowers to your flat so that people knew you weren’t alone, that you were loved. I wrote a card and signed on behalf of everyone in the family. That wasn’t really for you, I guess, it was for me, to ease my pain. I feel like if it was me or Jade that had died you’d have been in shock that day, gone round to Mom’s and sat with everyone as I did. You’d be angry if we had done what you did. You’d probably write an angry blog. You’d maybe have a few days off work and many pints with your mates. But then what? You’d probably have the sense to move on quicker. I don’t know. I’m glad you did the poker thing because there’s talk of a charity night at the club I’m your honour which received my blessing. I think that anything like that is great, people coming together is what humanity is. Or should be, of course.
Then there’s the idea of moving to Rugeley. I never considered it before because Rugeley wasn’t home for me, Stafford is. I’m not saying it’s written in stone and the idea is still a little crazy. Jade is also considering the move. There’ll be huge sadness if we do move because it’s too late. You’re gone.
Enraging rambles 