It was my mom's birthday today. I can't say I really look forward to it anymore. We celebrate it anyway, dad and I. We try not to linger too much on it, but if we just neglect celebrating it at all then it feels like we have done something wrong. My mom still means a lot to both of us, and I don't think dad ever really got over it. I've spent so long trying to understand what happened, but I guess there is nothing to understand.
My mom is gone, and when it's her birthday it doesn't ever feel right.
Dad and I visited her at the mausoleum. With the falling of the graveyard into the sinkhole, people around here simply stopped burying the dead and made it a practice to cremate them. It's better for storage I suppose, and means that their ashes can be placed somewhere where the ground won't give way. I heard they are still working on building space for all those people who were killed a year ago.
I hear their bodies take longer to burn than normal.
There is a spot for flowers. The community decided that it was just wasteful for people to burn through flowers by cutting them, so there is a memorial garden now where people can plant their loved one's favorite flowers or plants. We sat there for a little while. My dad didn't say very much. My mom's flowers haven't begun to bloom yet, but we didn't want to wait a few weeks for that to happen.
Easier to explain to his work that it was his dead wife's birthday.
I know it's a little morbid, but I don't really see the point of celebrating it anymore. I know she meant a lot to us both, but it just feels like we are rubbing salt in the wound at this point. Mom wouldn't have wanted us to do that. She wasn't that sort of person. But my dad insists on it. Sometimes I wonder if he does it as an excuse so that he doesn't have to think about getting back out there. I've told him several times it wouldn't bother me. I even tried setting him up with one of my friends mom, but it didn't pan out.
I think it is hard when your mom was murdered. It kinda changes things for you. I try to see it the way other people do, but I just can't manage it. People get sick or bad things happen, but this...it just feels different for me. I suppose maybe it is just another excuse for me to keep myself feeling abnormal, but I just can't hold a conversation with people about it. People just don't understand what it feels like, and it just sinks most conversations when I bring it up.
In fact, I think you are the first person I have mentioned it to in over a year now. Not even my co-workers know. It isn't like people have their parents visit them at work or anything, and I do talk about my dad quite a bit. I suppose no one has put it together.
I think that I kinda felt I could tell you since you know what it feels like. I mean, your mom wasn't murdered or anything, but you know what it feels like to have it just be you and your dad.
It's cool you get to study abroad. I mean, I know right now really isn't the best of times, but it still sounds fun in principle lol. I really don't normally think about traveling really. I know for you Europeans it is kinda normal for you to travel, but I have really never felt the need to. This place just feels like my home, you know. Everything I need is right here, and now that I have my dream job I just don't see a reason to do so.
I am pretty sure I could study this place for the rest of my life and still not know everything. It doesn't hurt that most of the things here are a dead end, and that that dead end often leaves you heading in another direction entirely. It's like a coil of mystery, and it doesn't have an end.
It's been raining for days now. When it rains, our house seems almost like it is breathing. It creaks and moans, and the basement often floods when it gets bad enough. We keep everything in the basement on top of two sets of pallets a piece. Sometimes it isn't enough and we have to bring everything upstairs. A couple years ago we forgot to and ended up losing a lot of stuff. Thankfully my mom had some forethought and kept all the really valuable things in sealed containers.
So far the flooding hasn't been too bad, but it supposed to be weeks before they suspect the chance of rain to drop off.
I'm lucky that my window is facing west. Means I tend to get those nice rainy breezes, even if I sometimes need to towel off the window once the storm has passed.
My uncle called me today to wish us a happy birthday. He doesn't get our tradition of celebrating it either, but to his credit he still makes the call every year. He was funny this time. I told him about the new job and it got him talking. I think he wants to be included in the history of the place, but I don't think hunting stories from out of state are something they are looking for.
So, the story is weird, but what story from here isn't? It was fall, and he was out hunting with a friend of his. I guess they aren't friends now. Apparently they had a falling out. I am only mentioning it because he seemed to think it was super important lol.
So, him and his buddy are out hunting in Wisconsin. He wouldn't name where. Apparently he didn't have the necessary permits, and I guess he doesn't trust me not to tell on him. So they go out, but there is something wrong about it. Like, my uncle loves hunting, so if he says something was off I believe him. They were there all day, but they just couldn't find anything that seemed worth their time. All the animals seemed off to him, and a lot of them seemed sick.
Well, eventually they get tired of waiting for something good to come along, and they spot a doe come into their line of sight. They were up in a tree stand and were down wind, so they were set up for the perfect shot. His buddy was getting antsy, and so he let him take it. It was cold that day, and he could see the wisps of breathe coming out of it. But the breathing wasn't right. It was like it would start breathing, then forget to finish, then start again. He went to mention it when his buddy took the shot.
Thing fell as pretty as you please, and before he could say anything about it his friend had started heading down the tree towards the kill. My uncle took his time getting down, but by the time he reached the bottom he was hurrying because his buddy was swearing up a storm.
So my uncle shows up and his friend is complaining that the meat is no good, and that they fucked the entire day just to get a kill they couldn't use. My uncle didn't really get what he was saying. After all, like he said, they weren't exactly going by regulations. But my uncle looks down, and he gets what his buddy was on about.
The body of the doe looked like it had been here for weeks. There were maggots and decomposing tissue, and where its guts were it looked like something had had their way with them. My uncle couldn't figure it out, nor could he figure out why his buddy seemed to be more concerned about the fact they couldn't use it, instead of worrying about the strange and horrific condition of the carcass.
He knew what he saw, and he swears up and down that he isn't lying, though my uncle has been known to throw around some tall tales. He says that after that, things between him and his buddy just got weirder, and now they don't talk at all.
The thing is, I know my uncle lies, but he seemed so convinced by it.
He swears he saw the thing they took a shot at walking around on its own legs.
But that couldn't be possible. By all accounts the thing had died long before they got to it.