Death is a crazy thing. Sometimes people wish for it to happen. Sometimes people are afraid of it happening. Sometimes it just happens. This week my cousin died. He took his own life.
I wasn't close to my cousin, but I wanted to be. When we were very young we were very close, almost best friend close! When I was about eight, our parents just stopped talking. I'm not even sure why. Some silly thing that adults disagree on. Who knows?
As I grew older I would think about my cousin and his sister often. I would wonder if they liked the same things as my brother and I did. I would look for them when we went to a mall or movie theatre in their city. On chance meetings at my grandfather's house I would try to get as much info about them as I could. I even remember having a phone conversation with them when I was about 16 revolving around rock groups, school and part time jobs.
As an adult we started to see eachother at funerals. We had lots to talk about, of course in a very awkward setting. We updated eachother on weddings and babies and jobs. We talked about older relatives and shared stories of growing up, reflecting on our memories. We became facebook friends which allowed even more sharing to happen.
The other day I had a notification on facebook from his sister. She sent me a private message telling me that her brother had passed away. I was shocked! How many 41 year old men just "die"? I asked if it was expected. He did look a little thin at my Mom's funeral. Was he ill? He took his own life.
I have so many regrets. I don't even know my cousin well enough to speculate why. He seemed to be living a dream life. A great job as a head chef at a fancy restaurant. A fondness for golf and fishing. A loving sister and nephew. A Mom who supports him.
Why?Just why?
We may never know.
I miss you cousin. I hope that you are in peace. I hope that you are with your Dad, my Mom and our Grandparents. Until we meet again.....xxoo
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Call it like it is
Ok, I'm just going to come out and say it, I'm a nympho. I'm not ashamed. Well not of that anyways. I remember the first time someone called me that. It was more in play, but it was a term that did describe me to a "T". Someone who just couldn't get enough of sex, of foreplay, of affection , of whatever. The problem was that I was only 15 years old at the time.
I had this older boyfriend who was with me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Lots of time to fit in extra -curicular activities. His parents were hardly ever home. Opportunities were endless. My parents were so trusting, or was that permissive? Maybe a little of both. When we weren't at his family's apartment taking baths together or watching beta-max movies on his waterbed, we were with my family. A family that grew to accept my boyfriend like he was their own. Help him with homework, pay for vacations, contact lenses, trips at school. Give him all of the home-cooked meals, rides here and there and attention that he had never been given growing up. It was the best of both worlds! Romanic escapades/ Family events and trips. Dates, dances, endless summer nights and a diamond engagement ring. Chores, family fun and responsibilities. My boyfriend taught me so much, so soon. He also bonded with my brother, my dog and my parents to a point that it was like grieving a death when we broke up. I grieved that death for many years, too afraid to get hurt again. I wouldn't let anyone else near me.
I heard "our song" on the TV last night and a flood of emotions came swarming back. I remembered all of the good times that we had. How close we had been. What he meant to my family. I also remembered "those endless summer nights" and how he knew me inside and out.How easy it was for him to make me climax. I secretly long for that. Maybe not for "him", but just for that feeling. Yes I am married. Yes my husband and I must have done something right as we have 4 kids together. Maybe it's the fact that my husband's meds have rendered him impotent that has caused this "stirring" in me. Maybe it's hormones? For the first time ever I'm starting to see why "Ashley Madison" exists. Maybe that is what I'm ashamed of.
I had this older boyfriend who was with me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Lots of time to fit in extra -curicular activities. His parents were hardly ever home. Opportunities were endless. My parents were so trusting, or was that permissive? Maybe a little of both. When we weren't at his family's apartment taking baths together or watching beta-max movies on his waterbed, we were with my family. A family that grew to accept my boyfriend like he was their own. Help him with homework, pay for vacations, contact lenses, trips at school. Give him all of the home-cooked meals, rides here and there and attention that he had never been given growing up. It was the best of both worlds! Romanic escapades/ Family events and trips. Dates, dances, endless summer nights and a diamond engagement ring. Chores, family fun and responsibilities. My boyfriend taught me so much, so soon. He also bonded with my brother, my dog and my parents to a point that it was like grieving a death when we broke up. I grieved that death for many years, too afraid to get hurt again. I wouldn't let anyone else near me.
I heard "our song" on the TV last night and a flood of emotions came swarming back. I remembered all of the good times that we had. How close we had been. What he meant to my family. I also remembered "those endless summer nights" and how he knew me inside and out.How easy it was for him to make me climax. I secretly long for that. Maybe not for "him", but just for that feeling. Yes I am married. Yes my husband and I must have done something right as we have 4 kids together. Maybe it's the fact that my husband's meds have rendered him impotent that has caused this "stirring" in me. Maybe it's hormones? For the first time ever I'm starting to see why "Ashley Madison" exists. Maybe that is what I'm ashamed of.
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