It happens like they say


“Not one day that you are here has been promised to you.
So make the most of every day as if it was your last,
And every breath as if it were the same.”

It happens like they say, you know.  You see everything flash before your eyes and you think you’re completely done for and it’s weird, actually, because there’s this split second of acceptance instead of fear.  Like, okay, if this is what’s going to be, it’s going to be.  Live or die, stand or fall, this is what’s been chosen and I’m okay with that.  It’s an odd feeling, really.  You find some peace with what’s about to happen, or not, but that is only with yourself.

Because you also realize just as quickly, in that split second between worlds,  the things and people who mean the most to you, and most of all you wish you could make peace with them first before the final fateful judgement call is made.

You wish you could turn back time and remember that every fight with your sister was so unimportant, if you could just hug her one more time or hear her laugh, you would tell your mother how much, really how much you appreciate how amazing she is as a mother, a friend, a carer, a person.  You would tell your friends who you don’t see or talk to half as often as you should that you love every single one of them for putting up with you all of these years and that you’re sorry you didn’t make more of an effort to spend more time with them but they always meant the world to you, even if it didn’t seem like it.  You would tell your children that they are going to go on and become great, successful, happy people and live a good life and you’re so proud of them already.  You would tell the man you cared for more than any before him that you regret every fight, every bitter and hateful word, everything that hurt him, that hurt you both and you wish that he would just remember how much you loved him with everything you had, that you hope he would forgive you, you forgive him and you wish with everything you’ve got left that you could hold his hand just once.

You would tell your father you forgive him and you wish despite all you’d thought and said that he didn’t have to spend so many years in pain and indignity.

You wish you could say goodbye, to everyone.

All of these thoughts in a matter of seconds, and that still doesn’t even scratch the surface.  And afterwards, when you’re standing, upright, in one piece, breathing, alive, you’re left with so many remnants of these thoughts and you’re not sure whether you’re left with more regrets than things to be thankful for, and that’s part of the tragedy.

Life, mortality, it’s so fragile and uncertain.  I guess my current thinking right now is to not take for granted what is not promised to be here tomorrow, for whatever reason.

“So drown me and if you can
Or we could just have conversation.
And I fall, I fall, I fall down
But I found you, before I drift away.”  ~ Dallas Green.

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I’d like to believe


“I’d like to believe that there is healing.  It’s a wonderful notion; that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, that loss simply allows us to learn how better to appreciate what we do have for the time that we have it.  But… I don’t believe it anymore.  People often forget that what remains are memories, and that when a wound heals, it leaves a permanent scar that never fully goes away.  I will go on, as I always have done, because I simply have no other choice. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t know how long for because I don’t want to.”

~Anaveya Blackcrest.

Mano Saulė


Aš kasdien galvoju apie tave, mano gyvenimo meilė.  Aš rimtai, tu esi ypatingas.  Nepamiršk man karts nuo karto parašyti – kiek daug pokyčių įvyko ir aš tavęs labai ilgiousi.  Negaliu įsivaizduoti gyvenimo be tavęs, jis jaučiasi taip tuščias, tu nesate čia.

Taigi padėtis yra tokia bet mes niekur.  Tai ne tai, ką planuoja likimai.

Tikiuosi, kad vieną dieną, tikiuosi, kad mes iki to dar prieisime.  Mano pasaulis be tavęs – tamsu, tuščias, vienišas ir šaltas; jūs paėmėte saulės spindesį, mano šiluma, mano komfortas ir saugi vieta, mano namai.  

Tu esi mano namai ir tyla yra skausminga.  Noriu geriausio draugo atgal, mano mylimasis, mano kompanionas, mano pasaulis.  Niekada nesame matę nieko panašaus, šis ryšys.  Tu žinai, ir aš tai žinau.

Žinau, kad tai sudėtinga ir suprantu, kad tai nelengva, tačiau ir aš, ir jūs žinome, kad dar daug nepadaryta.

Prašau atleisk man.  Aš pasiklydau.  Aš vis tiek tau reikia.  Aš vis dar noriu tave.

Aš tavęs labai ilgiousi. Aš visada tave mylėsiu.

Atleisk man.

 

 

Author Hiatus – A note from Admin


Ana has taken a break from social media, from this blog, from external distractions and pressures for an undetermined amount of time.  This blog was always a place for her to share her work; her stories, her thoughts, her personal triumphs and struggles and it only seems fitting that it continue that way.  She had been working on a lot of different things for this blog and herself; thoughts, story pieces, quotes, letters and songs which she had drafted for posting at a later date, so you will still continue to see semi-regular posts for the time being.  Some are complete, and some are not.  You will see both.

She has always maintained that this was her space to share pieces of herself when she at many times struggled to do so in her life outside this little piece of the internet and was always grateful for the following and readership she received over the past three years, from loved ones, friends – new and old, and strangers alike.

Thank you for reading and continuing to read.

 

~M. Thomas-Jameson (Back-up admin/archivist for These Things)

 

Back with the living


The truth was that Ana didn’t really know how long she had spent in the coma.  She knew she had been in one because she had been told so, but nobody had told her the exact period of time; that is, no one that was still around to tell her.  She had asked but nobody wanted to tell her either because they had all but given her up for dead so long ago that time had just got lost along the way, or maybe it was that they didn’t want to tell her and cause her more immediate emotional distress.  The question was dodged or answered with a question or diversion every time and it hadn’t taken long for Ana to give up asking entirely.  They’d tell her when they thought she was ready to know, she supposed, and the truth was, she didn’t care much just then, she was still too tired and all of the little energy she did have was spent on a daily basis trying to get her bearings again.  Either way, she had two eyes of her own and she could see that it had been a long time.

She looked visibly older.  She couldn’t judge how much exactly and wouldn’t want to guess; it could have been years or decades even.  There were definitely a few fine lines on her face that hadn’t been there the last time she faced herself in a mirror and at least a handful of grey hairs peppered through her hair.  Her face, once full and healthy was now gaunt and drawn, the dark circles under her eyes showing just how worn down she had become and perhaps how close to death also.  But she was here, alive, if not feeling incredibly lost and out of touch with everything, including herself.

What troubled Anaveya Blackcrest the most was the distinct lack of recollection of what had occurred before she had fallen into the long deep sleep.  What also troubled her was that she did recall who was missing now she was awake again.  Her sister was conspicuously absent and Kaeth, too.  Where was her family, she wondered as she absentmindedly ran her hand across her belly which bore a curious cross shaped scar that had also not been there before.  Where had her life gone?  Where was …

“Ssh, Mommy, don’t think about it now.  I’m still here.”

Ana startled at the sound of the little girls voice, a little hoarse and quiet as it had always been, and she felt an odd mixture of both comfort and uneasiness as she looked down at the eyeless girl in the faded blue dress as she pressed her pallid face against the woman’s side and wrapped her arms around her middle.  Reluctantly almost, she reached down and stroked the child’s hair once or twice and Eyla tilted her head up to her and smiled, an insidious sort of smile, the one that Ana instantly remembered that almost always came before the child had a brilliant yet terrible idea that she was about to put into action, or draw her mother into.

“I know where Daddy went.  He’s in trouble, Mommy, and we’re going to find him.”