Sense

After a meager amount of sleep, about useless at work, physical symptoms still strong - to my utter consternation. Dr. Hutch walked in on me in near-come-apart, and said "I don't know what's wrong, but this will help!" and rubbed my neck and shoulders. He was quite right. Came home, called about the arch supports I'd ordered as a kind of warm-up, then called my eldest brother.

He's still full of bullshit. Still not as smart as he thinks he is. But my training in various areas, plans over the years of utter silence, and reading of Smiley's interrogations served me well, as I let him talk and gave away very little of myself.

"So, Bill* got hold of you through D(...)'s parents." (D is on the online white pages, took me 30 seconds to find our phone number that way. His parents are unlisted. I found my brother's number in as much time there. I did not let on that I thought this utter crap.)
"No, I found the obituary online." I say, calmly.
"Oh, no." Says Brother.
"(Mass. Cousin) is in contact with me." I inform him.
"She disappeared after she retired..." (No, she didn't. She's been retired since before I fell out of contact, and has the same address, and phone, to this day.)

I found out a lot of detail. And a lot of what Brother was told, and I have translated from Comfort Language ("he wasn't in pain") into reality - he died a slow, scraping death. A whole load of unnecessary misery. There are a host of reasons that turning away from the whole , surviving clan was an attractive choice. I had to face it all, though. Tomorrow, I will call my mother. And try not to dread it. I started with the Brother first, because I knew he would be more flip and oblivious. Figured, if I can deal with that, I will move ahead to the steep section.

I think that is what I am experiencing. All in a gush, all the sewage behind the dam. The reason I could not sleep last night, despite every technique I've ever used to glide away from the logs of memory. I was birling away over icy waters, every memory of aunts and uncles, cousins and brothers played and replayed with the shitty underbelly spewing away.

All real, none of it makes a fucking bit of sense.

I've never been good at forgetfulness. Trained too early to remember everything so I could understand, and I may have overdone it. I like to think that I am as intelligent as I think I am. Just like I know exactly how drunk I am at any given time. Or how tired, or tall (5'6".) Names, dates, numbers, all lost. But I remember events as though I were standing there, with overlays of the interpretations of subsequent information adding meaning. Just how my brain works, or fails to work as the case may be.








*The second eldest brother. The Fall Guy.