Death! Death is Coming, Death is Here!

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Now, if I were clever, this would come paired with a screenshot or gif from the relevant episode of The IT Crowd, but honestly? I absolutely cannot be bothered right now. I feel that death, yo. You see, my PokéAddiction means I dragged my spoonie ass, kids, and spouse in a loop around our village to try to take a gym (failed), and to catch some water Pokémon (success!). I was proud of myself for getting out and about, but I was in a lot of pain by the time we were turning back for home. And that was with having taken some paracetamol (Tylenol) in advance. I am relieved that after some dinner and being curled up in my cozy chair, I’m feeling mainly better… as long as I don’t have to get up. *chuckles*

Now, the Gym we failed to take is in the graveyard of the village church. It’s a beautiful memorial garden, and it was wonderful to sit down there amongst the flowers and monuments. On the walk there, my husband was explaining to Smallhausen (our eldest) to not walk over the graves because it was disrespectful, with especial emphasis on the side of the path that had the newer graves. Her response was to comment about the older graves and digging them up to get the bones, which…. o_O?! I mean, we’re a bit goth in our blackened souls, but daaang kid. We explained that it’s not okay to do that, and it was forgotten by all.

Death is Here!

Okay, so realtalk — I’m weirdly apathetic to death. My stepfather acquired HIV in the 80s due to his drug habits, so by the time I was nine I had made peace with death. Like, told my parents and everything that it was okay if he died because I didn’t want him to suffer on our behalf, that we’d manage. Instead I got treated like I was a total asshole which um… thanks, narcissists? ¬¬ But when you grow up with that spectre, you just sort of take it on the chin. I’m more likely to cry for total strangers than people near to me, because part of my coping has been thus — as long as you remember a person, they never truly die. If someone dies that I don’t know anything about, but know that my friends are suffering because they ‘all’ knew said person, I get really freaking upset because I can’t do my bit to keep them alive.

Anyways, I don’t fault anyone’s approach to death. Mourning is one of those super personal things, and there’s no wrong way to do it. Well okay, I admit that I wasn’t amused by the responses to Thatcher’s death; I get that she messed up a lot of things for a lot of people, much like Reaganomics did in the US of A. I guess it left me with this double standard that I need to work on resolving, ’cause like… people have a right to be pissed. Maybe it was the shock of seeing my normally ‘reserved’ British compatriots on the whole Ding dong, the witch is dead! vibe, where the dead are generally reated with reverence in the States. But eh, you know what they say — you don’t truly know anyone until you’ve known them at least three years, and then there’s still always something new out there to learn and, yes, maybe be shocked by.


There, found a thing. Screenshot. Something. I’m going to go like, lay my head down and drool for a bit.


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