K asked me earlier this week if I had a copy of the eulogy I gave for Jason.
Even though it was more than a year ago, I can almost recite the eulogy from memory. I won't, though. It is still a very painful subject. Late Saturday night, somehow the topic of discussion in the group I was sitting with turned to people they knew who had died--I think the topic came out of talking about the memorial service for Kit Reilly. I mentioned that one of my close friends from high school had died, and as I said it I could feel a lump in my throat.
Loss is an incredible thing. Objectively, my life is not much different now than it was when Jason was alive. Sure, over the past year I would have talked to Jason occasionally online, I might even have gone up to Orlando or down to Ft Lauderdale to hang out with him. He might even have visited New College again.
Otherwise, my life is no different. But somehow there is a conspicuous absense... sometimes when I'm sitting by myself I feel a little shard missing from my periphery.
I still can't bring myself to listen to Joni.
What can we do to make up for our losses? Escapism only gets us so far. My life at New College has had a constant high stress level punctuated by crisis after crisis. Some crises have been internal, others social. I feel as though I'm hardly given time to deal with one issue before the next one surfaces.
What I've attempted to avoid, and only recently been successful at, is a reliance on the relief provided by inebriation.
Frankly, recent events have made me cautious, to say the least, about substance abuse. I'm watching these third-years destroy themselves one by one. How did we escape that? We did well, even though we lived a lifestyle that would make Dionysus blush.
Were we really in control? Responsible?
Who knows?
Maybe I was just lucky. My brother always had this theory that everyone has a set number of vices/addictions that they have to maintain. Those vices and addictions can change, but the equilibrium number cannot. My number is three.
Any less, and I get squirrely. Any more, and I lose focus on responsibilities.
But the number always equalizes eventually.
What will replace my habitual inebriation? Only time will tell.
~Halcyondream~
a quick ramble