Grief you bastard - In the name of Thiago - Day 311
Today was a slightly better day. I'm not getting carried away because depression is frankly an awful disease that eats away at you and it's one sadly, that I've become all too familiar with over the years. But I am learning to manage it better these days. And it's a little like I said the other day, yesterday in fact, it's often a case of not fighting it so much but learning how to manage the big horrible bastard.
Speaking of big horrible bastards, I've just come off the phone to the old man for what is the third time today.
I can tell you now that when it comes to Sunday 28 November, the anniversary of the day we lost our little man, he'll be ringing me for some stupid fucking reason to pester me. I hope that when it rings it'll be to offer his support and show that he cares about me how I feel and what I'm going through. Well there's always hope. It springs eternal you know.
As a bit of a Brucie bonus today I discovered that there were two notes stuck together in the random act of kindness donation I received yesterday for the fundraiser, I just can't have checked properly. This brings the total amount of money raised to a truly phenomenal £22,790. That's pretty much it now save a few quid from the chippy, which I shall be visiting on Friday presuming they're still open. They were open all through the last lockdown so fingers crossed..
It's making me cry again putting that picture on there but what the fuck else am I to do? I remember speaking to Richard the doctor who stayed with us on the day that he died and saying that I wanted to swap places with Thiago. I'd had enough fucking chances frankly, why couldn't he have one? I know that I need to be strong and be around for the girls but let me tell you now, there's not a single fucking day where I wouldn't want to be buried in that grave in Keele just so that he could have another bash.
And the thing with the depression is that it's all the harder to accept right now at this very moment. I don't want to be feeling this shit when I should be honouring the little man's legacy, I should be continuing to do great things. That's what makes rejection feel that much more painful in whatever form it comes. I don't give too much of a shit about a lot of things now but I want to feel good, feel proud so that Thiago can be proud of me for being that way. Grief, you fucking bastard.
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