I’ve been running on reserve power for about twenty four hours now. I find something that stimulates, then overstimulates me, from old black and white movies to YouTube videos of trains or excision of epidermoid cysts.
I slept a little bit, then woke, stayed awake, then tried to sleep some more. I have feelings of anger and now, heartbreak. I learned that a young woman, 25, just died from an aneurysm. Most likely, it was an undetected birth defect. This is hard to take on little sleep.
I’m flying the colours this Memorial Day. It’s also the anniversary of my aunt’s passing in 2011.
Not quite in the mood for a cookout.
Dispatches From Dystopia 
I’m so sorry you’re struggling right now. I go back and forth, between “celebrating” this long weekend, and realizing WHY we’ve got this extra day off. It’s a somber day, really. Most of us forget to remember that.
The Holiday used to be called Decoration Day, because families would go to cemeteries to put flowers “Decorations” on the graves of loved ones, sons, husbands, brothers. And the custom was performed North and South. Very somber.
I’ve made it clear to Adam, I’d most prefer to go to the “body farm”, here in Tennessee, when I die. The thought of a casket is awful. I also don’t much like the idea of burning in a crematorium somewhere. I think going back to nature is the best option I know. Having said that, I want a headstone. I want something to mark my existence. I’ve also told Adam, if I die, he has my blessing to remarry, but he damned well better have his headstone next to mine! I don’t want to be alone. Even though it’s just a rock with words printed on it, it matters to me a whole lot. When I was 13 years old, one of my good friends died in a car accident. He was also 13. I saw him lying there, in his casket, and I vowed to myself I’d never look at someone I love, laying lifeless like that, again. I haven’t. I can appreciate why folks decorate the headstones of lost loved ones, particularly those who’ve died for our country, I’ve never been very good at visiting them myself. I remember those I love, who’ve passed on, through pictures and stories. I’m not good at visiting the rocks with their name on them, though. Despite this, I insist I have a rock with mine on it, and my husband’s be next to mine. I guess it’s a little silly, considering my own attitude towards headstones and gravesites? I always place my hand over my heart, during our national anthem, though. I truly do appreciate those who gave all. People in our country make me disappointed, especially in Washington, but I love our country, and absolutely want to honor and respect those who died so that we could be here today.
We love this country and some real slime balls will exploit that love for their own selfish ends.Tragic.
Hope you’re feeling better now.
Getting there.