August

I don’t have much of you, memories. I don’t know you.

I don’t know if we have anything in common, or if we’re completely different people from each other. 

I thought, no. I hoped. I hoped that one day we would be able to get past this chasm. I thought we would be able to sit down together unmasked. 

But instead I grieve you as a child, I grieve possibility. 

All I've ever wanted was my brother to come back. 

I feel you as a ghost walking through the memories I do have because I have nothing of you that is current or new. No potential for knowing. All this life we've lived with nothing at all to do with the other. And no willingness or want for anything more? 

If you’re gone soon. What do I do with this old grief when the fresh grief is layered onto it. 

Perhaps I'm being selfish. but what else can I be with only myself to attend to. 

The fresh grief arrives each time there's an update- shockwaves from the realisation that time is still moving. And cancer progressing. Do you think it's easier this way, with nothing? 

Is it easier for you, I hope so. I really really hope so. 

I’m scared. I’m angry. I’m completely fucking heartbroken. And I have no control over any of it. 

I think of us driving to the beach at Godrevy, arguing over what music was playing in the car. 

It was either Cypress Hill or Marilyn Manson. 

I wish I had more.