Blue Roses

I'm listening to Elvis sing "Unchained Melody" and I want to burst into tears. My grandfather loves Elvis. I once bought him a sweatshirt for Christmas that was Farside, about Bob the Elvis impersonator flying with Santa. He wore it every Christmas for almost 10 years, and didn't last year. I don't think he'll be alive to wear it this year, and that's killing me.

I talked to him today. There wasn't much talking. He's not in the joking frame of mind, not that I blame him, and I don't know what to say to him. That's our relationship. We banter, joke, make smart ass comments at each other's expense, and laugh a lot. A whole lot. We haven't laughed in awhile. He just got back from the hospital yesterday, and had a very bad night, didn't sleep. They put in the wrong fucking tube, the bastards, and it doesn't even work.

I keep looking at his picture. I have two tacked up behind my computer - one from when he was healthy, and one from July. He's laughing in both. That's who I want to remember. That's who I want around. God, I miss him so much, and he's not even gone. I want to cry and scream, "Please don't take him away from me" but what's the point? He's going, and I can't stop it, no matter how much it hurts.

Sometimes I go days without blogging about him, but he's never far from my thoughts. I haven't mentioned Liesl in weeks, but I still cry about her. Carol has cancer. I still don't know about Daiva. I cry when I see a memorial service or any reminder of New York. My mom warns me of retaliation attacks that will most likely start next weekend. How much more death can I take? I feel like I'm going to crumble. I babble about inane things, Josh Charles, Lance Bass, stories I'm reading, because I have to. I can't let all of these bad things tear me down like they're trying to do. I have to be strong, but I don't know that I know how. All I know is that Elvis is making me cry.