#Death of a friend

[brawlite]

with the anniversary of x-files today, i've been thinking about:

i rewatched x-files after my top surgery and then fell headfirst into the (quiet but mighty) fandom for a little while. there, i found some new friends, some old friends, and they all changed my life irrevocably for the better. it was such a whirlwind of absolute love and fervor and inspiration and camaraderie in a way i'm not sure i've ever experienced quite like that before.

i feel so lucky to have had that time with all of them, to still have that time with some of them. my life is better for it, i am better for it. so hugely, unendingly grateful to x-files for giving me that time.

[problematic-poetess]

You were my person.

You are my person.

You’ll always be my person.

The person i could say anything and everything to.

You were unparalleled.

You were amazing to me in every way.

you were my best-friend.

You are my best-friend.

I’ll never stop imagining what life would be like if you were here.

I’ll never stop wishing you were here.

I’ll never stop remembering every second we spent together.

I’ll never stop loving you.

I’ll never stop missing you.

[ludojudoposts]

RIP David Leland - 20th April 1941 ~ 24th December 2023 🖤

[thelonelyrainbowguy]

Just found out that one of my favorite people from a Discord server I moderate passed away. I have no further detail. I was just thinking about them the other day and wanted to check up on them, and forgot like I always do. I didn't know them in person but they were so kind, understanding, helpful, and caring. I wish I'd known them better and I wish I'd said something when I thought of it, just to brighten one of their last days a little, whether their death was sudden or expected (like I said, no further detail).

Their screen name was LilWanderingPoptart but everyone just called them Poptart. They were multiply disabled and severely chronically ill. They liked to draw and play Minecraft and chat on the server. They were so nonjudgmental and always wanted to help wherever they could.

Rest in peace, Poptart. You're already missed.

[goatsmell]

Toenails and All

Since you’ve died Our friendship is redefined

Now I’m exploring The coastline of a strange And familiar world

Hoping to find A little bit of peace

[inkylizard]

Ghost stories. cw: death of a friend My partner runs a Blades in the Dark game in a homebrew setting, which shares with the core setting the storytelling element of ghosts. They’re  prominent in our campaign specifically; our gang sells drugs to ghosts, and as such we have a number of ghost friends and associates  They hang out in our base and show up to our parties. The campaign has had sporadic play, whenever we can manage to get a group together. We’ve been running for about two years and have had a mostly consistent group. We’ve discussed bringing in a few more people off and on since the beginning, partly so we might be able to get a quorum and play more often. One time our friend Sam joined us for a session. Sam has struggled with his mental health, going through periods of stability punctuated with delusional episodes; this night he was on new medication, and he was drinking. He got confrontational and disruptive and we ended the session early. The next day he was so apologetic, and we understood, and said we’d all been there. I certainly have. We debated about whether or not to give him another try. Some of us said we’d be less likely to show up if we invited Sam again, and we decided in favor of keeping the original group. It was an honest decision. it wasn’t the kindest. We play on Discord and Roll20, because we started during the late stages of quarantine, and kept the format.

And Sam just... never logged out of the Roll20 game. It would have felt like adding insult to injury to ask him to exit out. His icon has been there every session, ever since.

On the 23rd of December, Sam died. A digital and uncomfortably real ghost in the Street Spectres’ home base. I imagine he’ll remain logged in indefinitely. I hope so. I don’t want him to leave.

[popcornoncemore]

I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm going to her funeral. I'm going to see her family and our friends and everyone who has ever loved her and we will take time to remember her. This is good, this is healthy, this is devastating.

I feel a jolting sense of awareness that this is unfamiliar to us. At fifteen and sixteen, we should be spending Saturday hanging out, studying, taking a break. We should be talking about what to wear to a dance, but instead we are having discussions about what is appropriate funeral attire. We should be celebrating our friend's birthday today, but we're putting it off to celebrate another friend's life.

It is strange, it is uncomfortable. But we need to do this, it is important. She was one of us and we will be there to show her family that we care. I am heartbroken, I feel lost. But I will go to her funeral today.

I can't believe this is happening, but it is. And I'm just thankful that we are together right now, that I'm not left to battle grief on my own. This is our family, she is our family.

It is with a mix of horror, disbelief, resolve, love, and hope that I am approaching this. I am going to the funeral.

[remembertheplunge]

All is fleeting . all is ephemeral

August 16, 2014. Saturday 6:43am

“We do not know where death awaits us:

So, let us wait for it everywhere.

To practice death is to practice freedom.

A man who has learned how to die

has unlearned how to be a slave.”

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) from the book “Broken Open” p. 221.

Michel de Montaigne  also advised people to practice death. “Let us deprive death of its strangeness."

My 8/17/2014 margin note to the above was

 “We rent. Price tag patina. All is fleeting. All is ephemeral.”

(By “We rent” I meant, we occupy our bodies temporarily. 

“Price Tag Patina” is a term that I came up with to describe my practice of leaving the price tag on items I buy at yard sales and also on items that did not sell at two estate sales that I held after my partner’s death. That way, things are are ready for the estate sale when I die! It’s kind of a humorous and practical  affirmation that I will die.

End of entry

Note: 8/10/2024

I had just run into the above entries about death in my 2014 journal when I learned yesterday that Nancy Ashley had died of cancer July 29. I met her in the 90’s when she was a deputy District Attorney and I was a deputy Public Defender in Modesto, California. In 1996, she ran for Judge and won. I became friends with Nancy and her husband at that time Mike Cummins. He was also a deputy District Attorney and also became a judge. In 2013, I applied to be a judge and Nancy wrote a letter of recommendation for me . Although I was never appointed judge, her support meant a lot. I was the only out gay lawyer in town at the time. (Probably still am)

Over the years, I appeared in judge Ashley’s court in Department 6 of the Stanislaus County Court house many times. I found her to be gracious and fair as a judge.

She died at age 64, just shy of her 65th birthday . I'm about 4 years older than Nancy was. I got to thinking if I had died at age 64, what wouldn’t have happened. There would be no Remember The Plunge blog. This blog began a year and a half ago. I never would have begun open water swimming in the ocean. That started 2 years ago. I wouldn’t have been there to support my sister Zoe through her sudden illness and death about a year ago.

I never would have known the magic of reviewing my journals in preparation for a book based on them and now this blog. That stated about 4 years ago. And, I never would have experienced the gathering wonder of aging that came with men mid and late 60's

8/16/2014.  (I am now 69)

[desperatecheesecubes]

Examining the decision to have Tim be a pallbearer instead of Dick under a microscope

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

And I pray to some god, some entity, some concept of hope that I can bring her back, that maybe I could take her place or simply be there with her but for a moment. I pray that maybe she would have loved me the way that I loved her, and I pray that she would not have hurt me the way that she did. I pray and pray and pray, but there is no answer. This is the way that things must be, and so I say goodbye and watch her float away to memory.

[mixedbag-o-beans]

Long Live hurts in such a specific way after a friend dies

[patrick47]

Dear Greg

[Greg (R) and myself on some forgotten peak in the Keene Valley Region of the Adirondacks. NY. Date: 1970’s. Photo is mine.] It’s coming up on a year now since you left me on the trail. You needed to climb one more mountain…at the time, I didn’t want another summit, but you had other thoughts. “One more,” you said. “Okay, but I need a rest. I like this little spot. There’s a brook over there…

[great-and-small]

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

[cahootings]

I redownload this app for one day once every maybe two months and unfortunately I’m rewarded every time

[aberration13]

9anime my beloved, they took you too soon

[sleeplessmidnight26]

It’s never easy to grieve a friend. 😭 I still can’t believe she’s gone. I’m sorry but updates on stories will be on hold for a bit.