I felt relieved yesterday for my sister and mother. They felt relief for him. My uncle showed up, 87 years old, to tell my sister to go home, he wasn't going to wake up and watching any more of it would only make her sick. From him, she took that order, and like folks tend to, he died when he was alone to do it, and I felt grateful to my uncle. 

When I woke up this morning it finally hit me: he's gonna be dead now forever. 😪

All this time, all this crying, all the begging for hospice, no offense but get him away from the ICU folks cz they do not need or have ❤️space for lost causes, it was for my sister and mother, my worry for them on top of the piles of worry here...that's all I could feel. Worry. Now it's over. And he's just never going to say "fuck a duck" again. 

At around 2 a.m. when he couldn't possibly be awake because he was dead, I ate milk and cookies. I thought the same thing I have for months: I want to stay in this body a while longer, so I shoved milk into it. I would prefer life not to suck so hard, but still, I don't wanna die not cz I am afraid but because I have more shit to do. I want a chicken. 

I don't care what my horoscope is (work harder no doubt), don't care about the moon whatever. (Oh, fuck a duck.) He's just dead and all this crap I've been packing is going to end up being dragged to Goodwill when I stop talking. 

Everything really worth any kind of a damn exists in the "meanwhile". From middle English, "in the interval" (alive briefly).

romeo & juliet - dire straights