I did this via speech to text, and did a light grammar/spelling edit, so this is unfiltered Sophie sh*t.
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I'm walking in the graveyard behind the Valley Forge Chapel. I come here often for the quiet; for the solitude, and to say prayers over those who stones are old and so probably don't get Prayers anymore.
It's been a difficult few days. I'm almost out of my unemployment benefits, and things may go downhill fast. Even Linda, my roomie and bestie sees the handwriting on the wall, because if I can't afford to live there, that will put her out as well, and that hurts me more than words.
Yesterday, Linda drove me to Limerick to pick up my car, which was getting some service due to a recall. We drove through the town I grew up in- Spring City, and also through Royersford (which is the same town really just across the river.)
It was sunset into dusk when we passed through. I couldn't help but think about all I've seen since I left Spring City those many years ago; about the people I've met, the places I've seen, things I've done- the changes in my life. I thought about those I knew who never left this area-who settled here after high school (assuming they finished.)
I can think of few worse fates than to be stuck in Spring City. Somehow, I managed to avoid that fate, but now, as my life closes in on me, I think about how many of these people are doing so much better in their life than I ever have or ever will. They have families- they have places to go; they are happy, maybe, not knowing what's out there. What's the old saying? Ignorance is bliss.
Walking here always lends me perspective. You can buy your lots long in advance here if you wish, so you would know exactly where your body will rot. and where it will lay in perpetuity. Some of the stones here are very impressive. There's one in particular that I'm looking at right now. It has an arch and in that Arch is an angel reaching down from heaven, pulling the soul of the deceased to Heaven. On that stone is the wife's name as well, but she's still alive- her husband long passed. I can't imagine her pain.
There's a lot of Gaelic crosses here as well, and a lot of very old graves next to which trees are growing- the roots feeding upon the Dead.
It's raining harder now. I'm standing in front of the graves of two different children- both infants. One has a small Christmas tree, and the other a statue of an Angel. That child was born at the end of July and died in September 4th in the same year. Again, I can't imagine the pain that those parents have endured.
It's raining even harder now. The sound of rain is always brought me peace. I don't know why. Maybe because it's the sky crying (to use the old cliche.). Maybe it's washing away the dirt in this world. Someday I will hear it no more. Someday, I'll be the Dirt washed away. I'm okay with that. I really am.
As I said, Death holds no fear to me: it's a friend.
2018 is coming to an end. I was with a friend of mine last night, and she told me that she can't wait for the year to end, because it's been one of the worst years of her life. I must say that my year has not been good at all either. I spent most of it unemployed. However, it is still not as bad as 2013. I still have no idea how I survived that year.
Heading back toward my car, and looking up hill, I see the Crypt of a Flying Tiger. There aren't any of those left on this side of the Veil. Maybe thirty feet away is the grave whose stone is shaped like a drum kit. The person beneath it died in his early twenties by suicide. I can't imagine how his parents feel, but I can't judge him. I was 24 when I first attempted suicide. I think about everything I would have missed- my daughter, my wife, some of the best people I've ever met in my life. And some of the worst decisions I've ever made.
I usually visit this kid just to say hello; to tell him that I understand, and that I hope that his pain has gone away. Much like when I visit Lisa- when I go down to Baltimore and visit the place where she left us, and I talk to her.
The year is ending and I'm in a far worse place than when it began.
God help me.
Be well.
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I'm walking in the graveyard behind the Valley Forge Chapel. I come here often for the quiet; for the solitude, and to say prayers over those who stones are old and so probably don't get Prayers anymore.
It's been a difficult few days. I'm almost out of my unemployment benefits, and things may go downhill fast. Even Linda, my roomie and bestie sees the handwriting on the wall, because if I can't afford to live there, that will put her out as well, and that hurts me more than words.
Yesterday, Linda drove me to Limerick to pick up my car, which was getting some service due to a recall. We drove through the town I grew up in- Spring City, and also through Royersford (which is the same town really just across the river.)
It was sunset into dusk when we passed through. I couldn't help but think about all I've seen since I left Spring City those many years ago; about the people I've met, the places I've seen, things I've done- the changes in my life. I thought about those I knew who never left this area-who settled here after high school (assuming they finished.)
Spring City (via Google maps.) The circle is where I grew up.
I can think of few worse fates than to be stuck in Spring City. Somehow, I managed to avoid that fate, but now, as my life closes in on me, I think about how many of these people are doing so much better in their life than I ever have or ever will. They have families- they have places to go; they are happy, maybe, not knowing what's out there. What's the old saying? Ignorance is bliss.
Walking here always lends me perspective. You can buy your lots long in advance here if you wish, so you would know exactly where your body will rot. and where it will lay in perpetuity. Some of the stones here are very impressive. There's one in particular that I'm looking at right now. It has an arch and in that Arch is an angel reaching down from heaven, pulling the soul of the deceased to Heaven. On that stone is the wife's name as well, but she's still alive- her husband long passed. I can't imagine her pain.
There's a lot of Gaelic crosses here as well, and a lot of very old graves next to which trees are growing- the roots feeding upon the Dead.
It's raining harder now. I'm standing in front of the graves of two different children- both infants. One has a small Christmas tree, and the other a statue of an Angel. That child was born at the end of July and died in September 4th in the same year. Again, I can't imagine the pain that those parents have endured.
It's raining even harder now. The sound of rain is always brought me peace. I don't know why. Maybe because it's the sky crying (to use the old cliche.). Maybe it's washing away the dirt in this world. Someday I will hear it no more. Someday, I'll be the Dirt washed away. I'm okay with that. I really am.
As I said, Death holds no fear to me: it's a friend.
2018 is coming to an end. I was with a friend of mine last night, and she told me that she can't wait for the year to end, because it's been one of the worst years of her life. I must say that my year has not been good at all either. I spent most of it unemployed. However, it is still not as bad as 2013. I still have no idea how I survived that year.
Heading back toward my car, and looking up hill, I see the Crypt of a Flying Tiger. There aren't any of those left on this side of the Veil. Maybe thirty feet away is the grave whose stone is shaped like a drum kit. The person beneath it died in his early twenties by suicide. I can't imagine how his parents feel, but I can't judge him. I was 24 when I first attempted suicide. I think about everything I would have missed- my daughter, my wife, some of the best people I've ever met in my life. And some of the worst decisions I've ever made.
I usually visit this kid just to say hello; to tell him that I understand, and that I hope that his pain has gone away. Much like when I visit Lisa- when I go down to Baltimore and visit the place where she left us, and I talk to her.
The year is ending and I'm in a far worse place than when it began.
God help me.
Be well.
I know it’s completely outside of the narrative here...but how about I suggest an idea? I suggest this knowing I might be wrong. However it’s worth bringing up. I’m betting you don’t hear this often but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a voice inside of you? How about if the whole Trans thing is bullshit? How about if you walked away from it your life and hope within it improves? Just sayin...cuz I think that totally rubs you wrong. Cuz you’re SO invested in this notion. But...what if you’re wrong?
ReplyDeleteWhat if you went back to Lance? Could you get support? Could you re-engage with “wife” and daughter? Could they be receptive? Could you get a job then? Could you have hope then? Maybe being a man wouldn’t actually make you suicidal? I only say this because it’s worth asking...how’s it going doing it the other way? Sounds like it sucks to me? There’s millions of men who don’t appreciate the roles our culture forces us into...maybe that’s you? Why is this such a bogus suggestion? You really don’t need or deserve to live like you are. It’s self imposed. You’re really better than your circumstances.
You raise some interesting questions. I've covered most of these before in previous entries, but it never hurts to review- so review I shall.
DeleteCongratulations, Anonymous! You get to be a whole blog entry, which I will finish asap.
https://sophielynne1.blogspot.com/2019/01/reply-to-anonymous-comment.html
Delete