He talked about his band, "Devil's Country" and about how he was going to apply to the music program at UVU. We listened to a couple of his CD's in the car, and just talked about miscellaneous stuff. I feel I was boring and in auto-pilot mode.
I almost got four hours of sleep last night, and I hate that. I hate that I have already started recouperating from this trajedy.
I keep thinking how Scott was actually here in our home only three and a half weeks ago. That we talked here, that we stood in this very room. I hate thinking that we stood in my studio in the back yard, and how that same studio now houses his belongings - where I'm sorting and preparing things for his funeral this Saturday, May 3rd. It would've been his 22nd birthday.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Quicksilver
I had an extremely deep bond with Scott. It is safe to say I had a deeper bond with him than I did any other sibling. He and I did so many things together through the years, and yet I look back and see how little time I actually spent with him.
I have this concept of something I think of as "Contrast of Simultaneity of Events." It goes something like this: I went to school for four and a half years, and been in the workforce for one year. Each day of school, each day of work I've gone about in a manner of being "focused" on the task of learning and moving forward. Accomplishing myself. These years represent so many thousands of hours that Scott was around, living within a twenty minute drive, and how often did I make it a point to see him? How many more times I would have loved to see him!
To further detail this concept, there was an April 29th, 2007, 8:12am (any day, any time - the concept is consistent). Scott was alive, and I could've visited him. We could've spent the day together. And a week later, the same thing. This concept is one that I cannot maintain in my thoughts. It is too infinite in its possibilities of "what if" and brings me no joy. Only guilt. I believe that Scott loved me equally strong, and wouldn't want to me remember him with only guilt in my veins.
The sands of time truly run like quicksilver, and the science of irreversible processes - such as time - is irrevocable and forces me to shift the very foundation my life is built upon. This concept of "Not." Not having Scott a part of my life in the way I did before has become my new reality, and one that I cannot yet navigate.
The duality of triumph in this matter is the most pronounced bitter-sweet I know. It is that: as time passes, and this new reality becomes incorporated into my personal paradigm I will not hurt so badly, which is what I long for right now. BUT, as time passes and I don't hurt so badly I will move further away from the time I had with Scott. This, I do not long for. I feel as if I SHOULD hurt for this.
As time passes and dulls the ache of pain this situation will become part of my life, and all I have been able to do for the past 48 hours is fight the idea of it ever becoming that.
As I write this and mourn, I realize that it would be disrespecting Scott for me to make the last moments of his life the most important ones - especially since they do not define him as the wonderful individual that he was. It kills me writing in the past tense about him.
Instead of me becoming obsessed with the confusion and guilt and sadness of this loss I will use this blog as a forum for writing all the precious memories I have of Scott, and as a way to let him know that my love will not diminish. I have to honor him.
I deal with this minute-by-minute, and second-to-second. As my emotions ebb and flow I have to find a pace, and focus on writing about all the happiness he brought me, and all the joy I experienced with and because of him.
I have to be here for my family, and I have to function.
I have to eat, and I have to sleep.
As time passes it will be a more natural thing to focus on happy events, but, to my family, bear with me as I continue to process this, and try to find my way of learning how to find happiness when I think of Scott, and not sorrow.
I have this concept of something I think of as "Contrast of Simultaneity of Events." It goes something like this: I went to school for four and a half years, and been in the workforce for one year. Each day of school, each day of work I've gone about in a manner of being "focused" on the task of learning and moving forward. Accomplishing myself. These years represent so many thousands of hours that Scott was around, living within a twenty minute drive, and how often did I make it a point to see him? How many more times I would have loved to see him!
To further detail this concept, there was an April 29th, 2007, 8:12am (any day, any time - the concept is consistent). Scott was alive, and I could've visited him. We could've spent the day together. And a week later, the same thing. This concept is one that I cannot maintain in my thoughts. It is too infinite in its possibilities of "what if" and brings me no joy. Only guilt. I believe that Scott loved me equally strong, and wouldn't want to me remember him with only guilt in my veins.
The sands of time truly run like quicksilver, and the science of irreversible processes - such as time - is irrevocable and forces me to shift the very foundation my life is built upon. This concept of "Not." Not having Scott a part of my life in the way I did before has become my new reality, and one that I cannot yet navigate.
The duality of triumph in this matter is the most pronounced bitter-sweet I know. It is that: as time passes, and this new reality becomes incorporated into my personal paradigm I will not hurt so badly, which is what I long for right now. BUT, as time passes and I don't hurt so badly I will move further away from the time I had with Scott. This, I do not long for. I feel as if I SHOULD hurt for this.
As time passes and dulls the ache of pain this situation will become part of my life, and all I have been able to do for the past 48 hours is fight the idea of it ever becoming that.
As I write this and mourn, I realize that it would be disrespecting Scott for me to make the last moments of his life the most important ones - especially since they do not define him as the wonderful individual that he was. It kills me writing in the past tense about him.
Instead of me becoming obsessed with the confusion and guilt and sadness of this loss I will use this blog as a forum for writing all the precious memories I have of Scott, and as a way to let him know that my love will not diminish. I have to honor him.
I deal with this minute-by-minute, and second-to-second. As my emotions ebb and flow I have to find a pace, and focus on writing about all the happiness he brought me, and all the joy I experienced with and because of him.
I have to be here for my family, and I have to function.
I have to eat, and I have to sleep.
As time passes it will be a more natural thing to focus on happy events, but, to my family, bear with me as I continue to process this, and try to find my way of learning how to find happiness when I think of Scott, and not sorrow.
Two Days Ago...
It is difficult to put anything about this situation into words because it seems to make it more real. I cannot convince myself he's actually gone, and I count the hours backwards from the time he was here. I don't feel like eating because eating is an affirmation of my life, and I feel so unworthy to be affirming my equivalent essence of what he left behind. I can't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, and when I wake up this wave of sadness washes over me that is piercing and fills me with melancholy and longing.
I can't stop thinking that I could've helped him, or saved him somehow. I can't stop thinking this was avoidable. Over that, I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw him. Three weeks and a day before he left. He rode with me out to Sugarhouse to pick up an oven for my new home, and helped me deliver it - then bought my old oven from me and we delivered that to his home. If only I'd known it was the last time I'd see him in this life. I would've hugged him, and told him that I love him dearly. I would've made better conversation, and asked more questions. It's just that he's always been there, and I thought he always would be. When I left him and drove away I had no idea how badly I would later try to remember the conversation, and wonder if he was somehow saying goodbye to me.
Last night I went and cleaned out the room at the house where he lived. When I saw the humble circumstances in which he lived I couldn't believe I'd asked him to help me move stuff into my home. His room was filled with things of the past, things I thought he didn't like anymore...legos, action figures and other things we'd bought together when he was younger. He hardly had anything, but you would never know it by his attitude.
His personality was radiant, and he was genuinely kind. He was such a gentle soul, and I miss him so terribly. My heart overflows with love for you, Scott, and I will continue loving you forever.
I can't stop thinking that I could've helped him, or saved him somehow. I can't stop thinking this was avoidable. Over that, I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw him. Three weeks and a day before he left. He rode with me out to Sugarhouse to pick up an oven for my new home, and helped me deliver it - then bought my old oven from me and we delivered that to his home. If only I'd known it was the last time I'd see him in this life. I would've hugged him, and told him that I love him dearly. I would've made better conversation, and asked more questions. It's just that he's always been there, and I thought he always would be. When I left him and drove away I had no idea how badly I would later try to remember the conversation, and wonder if he was somehow saying goodbye to me.
Last night I went and cleaned out the room at the house where he lived. When I saw the humble circumstances in which he lived I couldn't believe I'd asked him to help me move stuff into my home. His room was filled with things of the past, things I thought he didn't like anymore...legos, action figures and other things we'd bought together when he was younger. He hardly had anything, but you would never know it by his attitude.
His personality was radiant, and he was genuinely kind. He was such a gentle soul, and I miss him so terribly. My heart overflows with love for you, Scott, and I will continue loving you forever.
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