Why am I here?

We all act in our best interest and perceive the consequences of our actions in ways that make living with self bearable. That perception is our ego and all threats to our ego remain unforgivable, until a disproportionate reaction is meted out to the ignorant offender. 

When you pay attention to your choices and its attendant crosses, you become less judgmental of others and more accepting of circumstances. 

People want what is best for them and expect others to see that want as selfless. Those that understand this, withhold judgment, accept it, and work it. Those that do not understand this, label it, get angry, and fight it. Understanding or not understanding is neither good or bad, it just dictates the activation energy required to focus on your direction. 

Here’s a thought. Everything you choose and the crosses they present, hold the answer to one of life’s questions - why am I here? Most times, we want an answer that is an imitation, a replica, something close to what already exists. After all, we cannot be so special as to have a unique why (We are). Our answers become a complicated and sometimes complex puzzle, because we are trying to form familiar shapes with unique pieces. 

Pay attention to your choices and crosses. They hold your why. 

- Osasu Oviawe

Flashing By

Oh hey, I blinked and now it's September.... bloody hell, 3 months til the C word, the first one I will have to spend enforced time with my mother, and my ex, oh great, kill me now. The first one without father and that will be weird but I fully intend to cook dinner for my mum this year and she'll do absolutely nothing, I have decided, she deserves to be spoilt for once, it's up to me to make it happen, and I will, I'm a determined pro in the Christmas lunch stakes.

The guns didn't get valued and I'm a bit suspicious why, the guy that was supposed to do it just gave mum his 'expert' opinion, hmmmmm. I know dad trusted him to be the car mechanic and because of him the car passed the MOT today but a gut feeling doubt is niggling at me that something doesn't smell entirely right with this whole scenario. He reckons dad's best gun is only worth about £250, that doesn't sound right.... I may be wrong as I am no expert but I will research it. If it's indeed a low value item then I may as well keep it for the memories, I have a watch, a hammer and a potential gun as my inheritance and that'll do me, don't want a stake in the house thanks very much, that's mum's.

Had quite a bad hypo tonight, that's 2 severe ones in about 3 weeks, maybe I should consult the diabetic nurse?

Standing Our Ground

My first visit to a solicitor today, lucky me, I've not been arrested or anything... yet, this is all probate related, ah we love that word, it's my mother and myself's fave word right now... not! It looks like we'll be going through it whatever happens as the 'estate' (I use that term loosely) is too large, er, it's just a house, which belongs to my mother, when it's all sorted. I'm going to keep quiet and say nothing about my supposed share of it, I don't want anything from my mother, I'm not sucking at life so I'm perfectly happy to plod on as I am, leaving her to decide her own destiny, for the first time in her life. Apparently it needs adding to the land registry or something, more money, they know how to extract it well it seems.

It's all gobbledygook to me, I'm sure they understand it all, well at least I hope they do! It all needs to be done before any changes so we have to get mum's house valued so we know exactly the prices for fees and suchlike, fun. The guns are being valued tomorrow, so another loose end tied up as we find out the worth of that lot. I'd still like to keep it but I'm resigning myself to the fact I may not be able to, in fact my interest is waning when I think about the £150 and how that could take me on a relaxing holiday to Yorkshire instead.... I'm torn. I'm not money driven at all, the value of the Aya gun wouldn't sway me unless it could cure all our money woes in one hit, then it might, purely as a consequence of father's inability to think things through his only offspring could lose out on keeping it as an important memory, a legacy gone because he thought he was cleverer than he actually was, sad thought really but what can I do? Rock and hard place. Meh, it'll sort itself out in time, I can't drive myself nuts any more over it, I'd be joining the father in the hole if I carried on the way I was, not healthy.

The Lost Days

Oh God, it's Thursday, yep it was the trawl around the supermarket with mother time, fun and games as usual. Woke up and was so befuddled I thought it was Monday instead, all the days are blending into each other still, although we're trying our best to get back to 'normal' it's just not the same, obviously.

As the days pass by I'm finding that now my first thought in the morning isn't of my dear old dead dad, which I'm not sure is good or bad, I feel like it's been way too easy to 'move on' and I should still be in sackcloth and ashes but I think I separated myself from him a long time ago, removed myself from his immediate orbit, I had to so I could survive the utter torment he caused me for the best part of 30 years, how sad is that? It is very true though, when I'm at home it's easy to pretend nothing has changed because I rarely saw him, I couldn't be around him even though I wanted to more than anything, he just hurt me too much and I couldn't allow that to continue, for my own self preservation. I was preparing myself to lose him funnily enough, I just had a feeling it would happen, on my birthday I somehow knew it would be the last one I'd have him and now I'm scared my mum will die of bowel cancer because she won't be tested for it and I could end up an orphan within 18 months or something... I can't afford to bury her too and there's no charities for ex sewing machinists, I've feckin' looked already!!

I suppose thoughts of death are all around me now even though I'm trying to remain more calm and less in a frenzy about getting stuff done. We have the solicitor tomorrow, that'll be fun, I guess we're about to find out what sort of doo doo we're really in with regards to probate, get your cheque book out mother! Jesus, ok... I'm going on record to say I'd like to have kept your best gun dad but because you left us in a world of shit I may need to sell it to pay off the charges which seem to be growing by the day. I'm still trying to sell my Raleigh Talus mountain bike with no nibbles because I won't budge on the already cheap price, even though I'd rather keep it, I'd like the gun decommissioned but probate charges may dictate otherwise and I'll just have to live with it.

Grief wise, has it hit me yet? I don't know, maybe the vague feelings of sadness and regret I have now are as deep as it'll ever get, maybe I'm cold like my mother, maybe I just don't know what to do and how to feel in all this chaos. I wish it hadn't happened like this but we'd never have had the movie ending where everyone hugs and all is forgiven. We've had a letter come from the ICU dept of the hospital saying we can go see them to talk over what happened, I think we will as I think we both deserve answers, however painful that is, maybe that'll set me off again? When they told me dad was going to die I lost it right there and then, the correct reaction to such news, I was devastated those first couple of days but I feel like I've done my crying, but I can't help but feel incredibly guilty about the speed of that process. Here I go again giving myself a hard time, I just can't stop it.

Stone Me

Just had a day of friendship and frolics, it's a nightmare being popular! Spent a couple of hours with my mate 'SG' painting some stones and having a good old chat, was delightful to just get out and do something not related to death for a change. God only knows what I painted as they ended up looking like aliens, I forgot what a ladybird looked like for the love of all things holy! Anyway, it was lovely. And I've just rolled in from the pub after a pint and a half of lovely cold Coors with my other mate 'J' who I know from school, we had a nice chat about pensions and wills, as you do when you're bloody old.

Slept for 12 hours almost last night, tonight I doubt I will as I need time to decompress and wind down for bed and it's already 11pm, ah well. I can make do with 7 hours these days and still function... sort of. I am considerably less stressed since the funeral, I refuse to get excitable about stupid shit now, I cannot do it, I will go insane, therefore... not happening. I need to look after myself so I can look after mum, or else we're both screwed. I like my new relaxed attitude, I wonder how long it'll last?

Getting It Done

Another day, another round of frustrating father related info! The DVLA are insisting mother tax the bloody car again when it changes into her name, despite the money coming from her account last time, and then having to wait for her money to be refunded.... to herself! It's like a carousel, more meaningless and pointless bureaucracy I have to bloody wade through, seriously, someone is going to have to stop me hanging myself on my shoelaces very soon. However, success in the 'getting 3 months bank statements for grant' dept, thank f*ck, can post that tomorrow, sorted out right before I went insane, not a moment too soon! And then we made an appointment to see a solicitor to see about probate on Friday, more hilarity no doubt as we find out just exactly the depth of shit we're in, accurate right down to the centimetre I hope so I know whether I'll need a snorkel.

On the way home I nipped to Asda and stocked up on brown piss, AKA Diet Coke, and finished off my saintly helping others type day by fixing the ex's computer, on a fast track to heaven now me... hope it moves faster than the fast track section in Argos or else I'll still be waiting to enter the pearly gates in the year 3000.

Tomorrow I hope to capture some tranquil peace by painting stones with my pal 'SG' and that will be a welcome distraction from everything for a couple of hours, ahhhhh..... bliss! Then there's talk of another beer guzzling sesh tomorrow night with my old friend from school 'J' who is the only one of them all I can be arsed to speak to these days, 2 pints max of course unless I slip into rampant boozehound mode, which I am prone to from time to time but luckily not often given my past with the drink. So yeah, not dwelling on stuff, not intending to, doing ok I think, hanging on in there.

The Eulogy

I haven't had a lot happen today so as promised vaguely a few posts back here's the full eulogy I gave my dad at his funeral, it's a bit long but hopefully worth a read.
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"First of all, my mother and I would like to thank you all for coming, we really appreciated the cards sent and the offers of support received. Although my father wasn't a great fan of leaving his armchair for gatherings  I'm sure he'd have enjoyed seeing you all here today.

Where to start is a hard one.....after all, I never expected a month or so ago I'd be standing here having to do this...... but If you ask me for one abiding memory that would sum up my dad, it's this old thing

(hold up his hammer)

Many of you that worked with him may recognise it, if I had a pound for every nail he ever hammered in with this we'd all be sitting on a tropical beach somewhere. It got used so much, if you were closer, you may notice that the end has completely worn round. At some point I seem to remember he decided he'd had his money's worth out of it and after a bit of grumbling at how much they'd gone up in price, he bought another, which ended up looking pretty much the same.

I'm keeping this to remind me of how hard he worked outdoors all his life, every day, in all weathers, to make sure I never went without anything, especially the blue and yellow BMX bike I was so desperate for and he bought me around my 10th birthday, which without doubt  made me the happiest kid in the UK. However, I regret to inform that sadly the carpentry gene appears to be missing from my DNA so this'll have to be purely ornamental.

I remember as a child I was his shadow, a real daddy's girl, he was my hero, wherever he was I was 3 steps behind. Particularly on a Saturday, wedged into the cab of his pick up truck like a sardine between him, Sally the dog and his friend Jack getting ready to enjoy an afternoon of pigeon shooting. When other kids were out with their friends I was happiest sitting quietly in hides, in hedges and ditches, playing with spent shotgun cartridges, which I guess gives me the love of the countryside I still have to this day.

Being allowed to shoot the airgun was another treat I realished, even though the old thing probably weighed nearly as much as me and I could barely lift the barrel off the floor! I remember the weekends we spent driving around country lanes together looking for good places for him to shoot, and him teaching me things like what different birds looked like in flight and what crops were growing in each field.

As I got older he taught me to drive over those fields in the summer when they'd been combined, not exactly straight from the handbook of the british school of motoring but I bet I'd make a great rally driver. Then there was all the weekends I got roped in as free labour collecting logs for the fire in the winter, long hot summer days and light nights with the radio blaring out in the truck as I loaded it up, there's so many songs I remember that still catapult me back to those carefree times.

I only ever saw my father scared once in his life, he was chainsawing a tree trunk when an adder slid out and I turned my head to see him charging off down the field at a pace Usain Bolt would have been proud of, it was then I discovered he wasn't a great fan of snakes.

He loved his vegetable garden, and whilst in the hospital he seemed more concerned about why his tomatoes weren't doing so great rather than losing a leg. He was always busy in the garden doing something, and unfortuately one of the hazards of that was if you stood still too long in one place you were likely to get a coat of creosote, I'll never forget the vile smell of that stuff as long as I live.
(he may well have given this a coat - points to coffin)

The very fact I'm standing here at all is somewhat of a marvel in itself I understand, when my parents married and mum expressed a wish for a family he was of the opinion an MGB sports car would be the preferable option, but we can clearly see who had the better persuasion skills out of the two of them. He did get his wish when he retired though and got his MGB, he loved it, and funnily enough that was a 1973 vintage like myself, fate almost.

In some ways my father and I were very alike, in other ways extremely different, and to be honest it didn't always make for plain sailing between us. As you can imagine, if he thought I'd done something daft he let me know about it with his typical frankness and then I'd have to stand there until he'd put me right. People often tell me I look like him (aside and wink- so at least we know it wasn't the milkman mum) and people say I have his mannerisms and slightly "explosive" disposition towards people who attempt to take liberties.

He certainly never suffered fools gladly and often I remember him storming through the back door, blowing off a few expletives whilst enlightening my mother on how he'd told so and so to stick their job where the sun didn't shine. He always seemed to have a plan B though, knew his worth as a tradesman was never out of work for long.

I suppose I could ramble on forever, if we were charging most of you would probably want a refund by now, but I'll wrap it up with a few memories of the last moments we shared together. He asked me if I'd get him a pack of polos when I next came up to see him, I always try to keep my promises so here they are dad.

(hold up polo mints)

His last words to me were "see you later mate"

And I'm sure I will. If I'd have known it would be the last time we spoke I may have thought of something more profound to say, but probably not, neither of us were much for soppy stuff and he's probably up there rolling his eyes at my words today.

But watch out dad, I'm breaking new ground here, here comes my best very sentimental parting shot.... you'll never be gone to me because I see you looking back at me every day in the mirror when I brush my hair, and sometimes when I open my mouth, without warning, I catch myself talking just like you did.

You were many things to many people, but to me you were just dad, and I'll miss you forever"

A Constellation of Quotes for the Innovators

Radical innovation rarely comes from incumbents (Laurent Haug). No candle maker has become a bulb manufacturer, no carriage maker has become a car producer and the post office did not invent the email (Marc Giget).

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them, disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They invent. They imagine. They heal. They explore. They create. They inspire. They push the human race forward. Maybe they have to be crazy. How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art? Or sit in silence and hear a song that’s never been written? Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels? While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do. (Rob Siltanen).

You must constantly ask yourself these questions: Who am I around? What are they doing to me? What have they got me reading? What have they got me saying? Where do they have me going? What do they have me thinking? And most important, what do they have me becoming? Then ask yourself the big question: Is that OK? Your life does not get better by chance; it gets better by change (Jim Rohn).

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man (George Bernard Shaw).

Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream (Malcolm Muggeridge).

Till then

Friend: Osasu, why don't you write anymore?
Me: I do.
Friend: Why don't I see it anymore?
Me: I stopped sharing it on Twitter or LinkedIn.
Friend: So where can I read it?
Me: www.zazparelli.blogspot.com
Friend: Please keep it simple. Share on Twitter or LinkedIn.
Me: Why?
Friend: Cos I can't remember the blog name always.
Me: Aha.
Friend: Aha, what?
Me: That is the reason I am working on a new blog, with a memorable name. But while I am working on it, I do not want to be limited in what I write.
Friend: Since when did sharing on LinkedIn limit you?
Me: Since I started explaining why my not sharing on LinkedIn doesn't matter.
Friend: So when will I see the new blog.
Me: When it is almost ready.
Friend: Till then?
Me: Till then.

- Osasu Oviawe

Battle Lines

Blimey, mega intense afternoon/evening trying to sort out 'LS' and her daughter. I thought I grew up in a shouty house, holy shit, mine was a picnic in the park compared to what we had this afternoon. Very emotional, very fraught, very last chance saloon... I don't know if we got anywhere, that remains to be seen but her and the boyfriend are moving out anyway, it can't go on any longer, I fear for 'LS's mental health if this continues, she's going to crack. So, I did my best to referee, and boy it was hard work but I had to do something to resolve the issues, I felt I had to, gut instinct again, I'm learning to trust it more and more as I wander through life.

I remember the life I had 6 weeks ago, when all I was worried about was what graphics card was going in the new computer I was building... it seems like another reality ago that is a distant memory these days, now I have a serious responsibility to care for my mother when before I had only myself to keep in check, I just hope I have the strength reserves to carry the both of us forward. Somehow I found an incredible strength to get through my father's funeral and shock the hell out of everyone who wrote me off with my well written and heartfelt eulogy, where the hell did that come from? I have no freakin' idea!!! I surprised myself too, how I did it I don't know. Whether the grief will sneak up and hit me hard later on, I don't know, but right now it's there but it's not overwhelming, I know I will survive this because I've fought all my life to survive, the main cause of my self loathing has now gone, I'll never be called stupid by my dad again, there's a tremendous amount of relief that comes with that.... and enormous guilt because despite it all I loved him sooooo much.

Is this it, what I'm feeling? I feel ok, I can still laugh and joke with my mates, is that it, can it really be this easy to lose your father? I feel like I should be crying more and feeling sadder, it seems like I'm numb, is it these antidepressants I'm on making me so emotionless? So many damn questions going around in my head. Jesus, what a total f*ck up, back on the phones tomorrow to sort shit out to do with the mess dad left us in, many calls to make so I guess I should go to bed but my head still spins away merrily.... ugh. I want a time machine right now, pop back to a more carefree time, not gonna happen though eh?

Down Time

A day of rest! Done naff all of any note so this will be a thrilling entry won't it? Spent most of the day popping painkillers and talking to 'LS' about life, the universe and pictures of men she's been sent over Plenty Of Fish (dregs of humanity dating website, for the uninformed)

Still have no clue whether to sell dad's gun or have it doctored so it's an ornament, not that I am in the least money motivated but I guess I need to know what it's worth, and have the other two looked at as potential candidates for being melted down into ashtrays, I don't give a hoot about either of those, sorry dad. If I could sell that gun case he has to pay for the main one to be deactivated and still pay money towards the probate I'd be laughing, but my experience of life tells me I could never hope to be that lucky. We'll see next Saturday I guess, I think I may go with the guy taking them just to hear it with my own ears from the gun dealer, I never trust anyone where money is concerned, another lesson life has taught me. Cynical aren't I? Have we met?

So yeah, not much doing.... enjoying a bit of late night peace to decompress and think, but not too much, my brain can't handle the events of the last month in too large a slice. 25th today, a month exactly since dad died, have no idea where that time has gone, flashed by in a whirl, most of it with my ear glued to the phone it seems, and more calls next week, sigh.... I'll get through it slowly, letting myself rest a bit without losing the momentum I need to roll over this hump and carry on. I'd lose the plot if I didn't let myself breathe a bit,  bad enough that I reckon I'll be grey by the time we're done here!

Off out visiting to chair peace talks tomorrow between 'LS' and her daughter, hopefully that'll make an impact on the WW3 they seems to have there on a daily basis, fingers crossed. Plus it'll get me out and stop me overthinking, a dreadful habit of mine I must stop... like biting the skin on my fingers, which I have taken up again this past few weeks, and I was doing so well with it too, ooopsy.

Money Or Memories

I'm in a quandary, sort of, well.... I know what I want but it may not be feasible. I want to keep my dad's Aya shotgun, for sentimental reasons, not sell it like my mother is suggesting for monetary gain. I just did a quick Google and saw one for sale for £19,000, is that a price worth selling my good memories for? Mum wants me to sell them. The fond times I had with my dad when he let me come shooting with him and I sat in the hide quiet as a mouse with Sally our dog, excited so much my dad - my hero, my superman - had let me come along. I want the gun but I have a money problem, I don't have much, and I've just found out that probate could cost me £600 to give my own mother her own house.... I'm confused and upset by it.

If only my dad had left a will, why didn't he? Was this his final act of 'f*ck you' to my mother and myself? Was he really that intent on destroying us both? I stood up in church and told happy stories of what my dad meant to me, which was everything, but they were all before the age of 15 when he suddenly turned on me and the years of torment began. No, it wasn't just him that shot me down, but he was the main perpetrator, I was suicidal at 17, such a young age to be so tormented, he made me think that part of me was so repulsive that I spent years soul searching trying to find it and get rid of it. I asked a few weeks back when my penance would end and then it did, on 25th July, I guess I got the answer to my question eh?

I just love the fact I made all their mouths fall open as I eloquently read my witty and well prepared speech at the funeral, the stupid one came good, in a big way. They all wrote me off and I surprised them all, I feel pretty good about that and I think I should, pride is a pretty unfamiliar emotion to me, it would have meant so much to me to hear my dad say the words "I'm proud of you", nothing would have made me happier in the world in fact, nothing.

I'm a bit worried about these antidepressants and what they're doing to me, I've almost turned into an emotionless robot, it worries me, life has pain and we all have to feel it to be real, I don't want to be numb to everything, scary. I didn't once cry or even think of crying at my own father's funeral, that's wrong isn't it? That I looked at the coffin and it meant nothing to me, he went 4 weeks ago as far as I'm concerned, not Tuesday in that crappy little wooden box, which he probably creosoted as he did everything else.

Otherwise busy still, having a house meeting with 'LS' and her daughter Sunday, try and sort some stuff out. Got a working toilet again - yay! About bloody time I say, it's only been 4 weeks. Been up since 6.45am, need some sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, big time.

The Phoenix

Well, apparently the word on the street is my little funeral speech hit the spot with a lot of people, which is nice and I seem to have achieved what I set out to do.... dispel a lot of myths that have surrounded me all my life, that I'm stupid, that I'm useless, that I'm a waste of good skin, etc etc. Maybe these are things I have only thought of myself, borne of years of being told them over and over but now I feel a sense of pride in myself that I haven't really encountered before...

I really f*cking showed them all what I could do didn't I?

Is it wrong to gloat? Pride is a sin after all, but I haven't felt a lot of that in myself in my life. I feel proud I stood up and was counted when it mattered most, I was the one with the balls to get up in front of a church of people I barely know (apart from my close mates) and give a funny, touching and bittersweet eulogy to a man I loved, and at times hated, in equal measure. What happened to that shy little girl I used to be? I guess I grew up to be a fighter, I had to fight to get through what I did and I never once let it beat me, even when the ex nearly snuffed out the tiny flame I had left, I rose up again and didn't let it stop me. All things considered, I turned into a pretty ok human being with good friends around me who see who I am and like me for it, and that is no coincidence... the moment I said to myself "Hey, you're ok you know" I have had more friends come my way than at any other time in my life, the minute I grew comfortable with myself was the moment I started to shine like I should have done all along. If I'd not been beaten down I could have achieved great things, and I may still do, now I feel that the sky could be the limit for ol' Caroline if she tries, even the vicar agrees! (See email pic, ha!) I will at some point publish the contents of said speech so you all can understand the reference to the hammer and polo mints, honest!

I hope if there is such a thing as the afterlife that father is marginally pleased with the results of my writing, I don't have too many things I really shine at but writing can be one of them, sometimes I'm so on point on this blog I scare myself, sometimes the words just come out right and this entry may be one of them. I spent 20 mins up the graveyard hanging with dear pater and the rest of the distant rellies earlier, not by choice I can assure you, it's all rather a bit grim really, but this pic is kinda poignant I suppose.

Not Quite The Ticket

Well, I woke up and threw up, not the best start to the day to be fair, and I feel pretty shite, can hardly keep my eyes open so this'll be fun blogging won't it! I can't work out if it's food poisoning or what 'LS' had Monday as I'm starting to sweat now and just feel like falling asleep, quick smart. The thing that worries me is mate 'S' ended up in A&E with stomach pains last night and I'm a bit dubious about the whole situation, hope nobody else was affected.

Overall I'm doing well I think, seems like the majority of my crying and shock happened straight away so it's kinda gone, if you see what I mean. I'll do ok without him because he taught me life skills like being able to fight my own battles, get the best deals for things and generally how to be as strong as I can and function in life as a grown up without people taking the piss, not sure why mother never picked those lessons up, but then again she didn't have to cope without him in her own house like I have had to, jumped out of the family nest into the pond of life and I swam, sinking wasn't an option.

Been feeling dead weird tonight, so damn tired it's madness, so much so it panicked mother because I was so incoherent and out of it and she drafted the ex in, thanks a bunch! He always helps doesn't he? Ugh! I had a cool shower and now before it starts again I'm going to bed, pronto!

One more story needs to be told first though, from yesterday, a really touching one.... when I buy my tobacco I more often than not get served by the same lady and we normally exchange some general chit chat and when she asked how I was yesterday I said I'd just come from my dad's funeral and she told her workmate to take over, came out from behind the counter and gave me a big hug, how lovely is that? That made my day, a stranger being so thoughtful... a lovely story to end today's blog on at least, no?

Dust To Dust

Nailed it.... the eulogy that is. Was that ever in doubt? I think not.

I told you I would, watch me go. When I make up my mind to do something I fookin' well do it, and that's it, end of story, especially when mother says I can't, steely determination personified, stubborn as hell and bloody minded like my dear old dad. So yeah.... people seemed to like it, got a lot of compliments, especially his old work mates when I held up the hammer, it raised an audible chuckle and that's what I wanted, no sad shit, just let's all have a laugh about the good times. He wouldn't have wanted us all sat there with the sour puss... nah, he'd have been enjoying seeing all his work buddies, just like they enjoyed meeting up and seeing each other again, a reunion as such, how nice, I'm pleased. Anyway, he left the address, the place where he was born, for the last time about 11.50am in the hearse and yes I took pics, I won't look at them often but it's nice to have a record I suppose. It would have been nice if the bloke had opened the hall at 11am like he said he would, I nearly went mental! And then the undertaker got lost, good start, no? Mate 'S' managed to sob her way through my 'Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep' poem though, had to bounce up, rub her back and push her through it, maybe I should have done that after my eulogy myself? Might have cracked me up though.

I was ok with my mother crying a bit as we sat alone together in the first pew, all on our own. I held her hand for a bit, yes, I found the courage to reach out and I think she appreciated it. I on the other hand was completely in the zone, didn't even get close to shedding a tear, like an emotionless robot I was, I knew I'd have to go on autopilot but man.... surpassed myself there. Glad really, I had so many people to talk to and so many hands to shake that if I were a wreck I couldn't have done it. I threw dad his polos into the hole along with a rose, I never break a promise. Had a bit of diazepam to grease the wheels I won't lie and after 'S', the ex and myself adjourned to the pub I managed to get a bit pissed on 1 and a half pints of beer, oh the shame of my lightweightness! 'SG' came up to join up for a swift half and we had a jolly old time. Only ones that were missing was 'L' who came to the service as he promised me he would, but had to get off before we came up the pub, and 'LS' who wasn't well, it was nice to have a couple of mates there though to raise a glass to dad.

I was a bit disappointed with my flowers for £65, I couldn't hardly see they spelt out 'Dad' and it pissed me off a bit, they could have been done better frankly.... what do y'all reckon? Oh well, shit happens, bugger all I can do about it now. I wrote on the card 'Dad, will miss you more than you'll ever know' and that seemed to sum it up. I did end up catching the next door neighbour's grandson and having a good old chat, 'M' was like my little brother when we were growing up, I wrote about him a while back when he dad got attacked and they didn't know if he was going to live and despite the ridiculous row my dad was having with his parents and grandparents I felt in my gut I had to contact him. That was fantastic and now I have his mobile number and we'll stay closer than we have been I hope as I have been mates with him almost since the moment he was born, you can't get much more early than that for a blossoming friendship. So that was a positive thing out of a crappy day.

I survived in one piece, that was the main thing, now to start the healing, with a day of complete rest for me and deal with the rest of the shit he's left behind again tomorrow.

Ashes To Ashes

Well, tis the eve of the 2nd worst day of my life and all in all I feel.... calmish. Not had a chance to feel much else really as sandwich making and shopping for the sandwich making has taken up most of my day as mother was being her usual trying self, even 'LS' saw it today, what I'm dealing with, the sheer helplessness, not sure if it's real or putting it on to be honest but either way it's driving me up the pole! She's totally cooked too much grub, we'll be eating it for weeks - great!! The best thing was spending time with 'LS' as we really do click in a weird fate'ish, meant to be mates kind of way, if only I'd found this out sooner, known her for 20 years then we discover we can be as close as sisters, wasted time, it's a shame.

Had to pop to dad's cousin's to use his printer as mine wasn't playing ball, in other words I couldn't be arsed to set it up. Have got it working now and it's printed off my eulogy lovely, so the hour or so I spent round there wasn't needed, made us late for making the wake food, ugh, nightmare, oh well, it was my own fault for asking to use it.... and who the feck updates their Windows just before someone comes round? Not exactly the right time to be sitting there waiting for that to sort its life out... jeesh.

I don't know how I feel about tomorrow, if my mother breaks down it'll be weird and tough, I can't comfort her, I just can't, I still remember the look of hate in her eyes the day she went for me because I wouldn't go to school one day when she'd wheeled me round on a bike to try and get me in and I'd refused point blank (I was shit scared of one of the teachers, he bullied me awfully), pure hate it was I swear... and that stopped any connection with her in any form right there. I don't want to have to go through this, really I don't. I suppose tomorrow will be full of false sentiment and insincere handshakes, hugs and kisses, as most events like this are, I just want to get through it in one piece, without making a show of myself, no doubt mother will wheel out the "Oh, Caroline has been great, don't know how I would of managed etc etc" line now company are here to witness it, typical, she won't say it to me when we're alone though, oh well. Got my eulogy printed and ready, a readout from paper has been tested and it all worked so yes, I can do this and I'm going to, because my gut tells me so and that I trust more than anything, wish me luck, I'm going in......

The Cracks

I broke down and sobbed this afternoon, it all just got so much I just imploded for a while. It was about mother giving too old bank statements and me not noticing til I'd scanned them all off, I felt my time had been wasted by someone who I have asked repeatedly to find the right ones and I just felt sooooo overwhelmed I just cried, I was lost and alone.

The ex propped me up luckily but I have no idea how I will enjoy being stuck with my mother, with no smokes, in a tin box for a week on 'holiday', I want to top myself at the thought! She's driving me literally to the point of insanity, I swear she's a narcissist you know, she has all the traits and boy am I suffering, and I can't lose it now so close to the funeral, I'm determined to do that f*cking eulogy, even if it kills me, and it might as this rate!

So, yeah.... at least we know we've found the gun cabinet keys so I can take police advice now, that's one thing accomplished I suppose, every little helps.

Love Yours

Life is a journey, life is the journey.

The journey starts with life, the journey gives life. 

Every great journey has its Twists and Turns, its Peaks and Valleys, its Yays and Nays - real and illusionary.

We are designed to enjoy each moment of this journey, as each moment prepares us for the next. Pretty simple, yet pretty hard.

There is always something in the past, future or in the lives of others that eclipses our present moment. Filling our days with desires for what is not and ignoring what is, until it is not.

J. Cole puts it crisply in Love yourz - “...But you ain't never gon' be happy till you love yours, No such thing as a life that's better than yours...”

“The fundamental delusion - there is something out there that will make me happy and fulfilled forever.” - Naval Ravikant

All you need is here, now. Love yours.


- Osasu Oviawe

Down And Dirty

Well. it half killed me but I filled in the dip in my mum's drive to stop the neighbours moaning, the one my dad made to piss them off, I hope he watched me fill it in.... I'll be struck down with lightning now, just watch, he'll be spinning in his coffin the moment they put him in it I bet you, sat on his cloud watching me scrape and shovel, his teeth gnashing at it all. Too fookin' bad father, I said I'd fix it and I have, to the best of my ability and the neighbours can kiss my ass if they don't like it.

Other than that I've not done a great deal, just a bit of shopping and poodling about. Had to drop in at the local pub and have a pint, mother was driving me nuts with her carefree an blaise attitude to important things, I give up with her at the moment, she's dragging her heels on everything and it's driving me nutzoid! Maybe I've shielded her too damn much in all this, maybe she needs to get down and dirty here in the trenches. Not once has she asked me how I'm coping, nothing, like I don't even count. I appear to be ok but I'm hurting too, I've not had time to stop and feel sad, I have organised every little detail... every single one, I don't know if I've finished my crying or what? Maybe these antidepressants are turning me into an emotionless zombie, don't want that!! Blimey, this is waaaaay too complex for me.

I have to go get my glasses fixed tomorrow now as the nose pads have come off and they're killing my snout, basically. Then we have to fit the ex into his pantaloons.....ooops, I mean his trousers, need to get my funeral clothes here and ready for Tuesday and do a shit load of practice on my eulogy so I have it spot on. I can do it, I know I can, I'm shy by nature but I have balls if needed and I'm not afraid to use them, because of course, I am my father's daughter after all.

The Sense Of Duty

Another day, another set of phone calls... obviously. I actually feel lost if I'm not phoning anyone now, how sad is that? Blimey, I need to get a life, or get my old life back.... not sure that's ever going to happen because now too much has changed to ever go back to what it was, I have new responsibilities now that I can't shirk with good conscience, sigh, life really did change for me on the 25th July 2018. It was the day I really became a true card holding, fee paying adult..... bound to happen sooner or later I suppose but it came so quickly I didn't even get to blink, that sucks.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself or anything really, been too damn busy!!! I've rung the bank and found out how to close dad's account, I've sorted out her car insurance so that's valid from the 31st, I've been and sorted out the difficult subject of charity grants and suchlike with the undertaker, like a big girl, because mother couldn't face it. Actually that was tough, not the bit about 'we're not paying you til the grant comes' through stuff but another thing. I was sat in the car outside, with the clothes that they are dressing him in to be buried, feeling the material of the jeans and the shirt, and that was damn hard knowing where they were going, to clothe him for his final journey. That felt worse than agreeing to parts of his body being used for medical science.... holy shit, I have done some stuff in this process that has been SO hard, to shield my mother from it mostly, to shield a woman who has treated me with contempt many times and thought - along with my father - that I was stupid and worthless, who said to her friend she wished she'd never had me.... that was nice to hear at 17, let me tell you. Yet now, here I am trying to take the incredible weight of all this on my shoulders and getting minimal gratitude, if any.... boy, I'm either a saint or a complete mug, you choose. Well, looks like old dumb f*ck here isn't doing too bad is she, eh?

What am I going to do if she starts crying in front of me on Tuesday? I haven't got a clue, I can't even touch her with compassion I feel so detached from her in the sense of a normal mother and daughter relationship, we've never really had one. I'm afraid I'm going to have to sit away from her and pretend it's because of the eulogy and getting up to speak and such like, so I can look the other way, that sounds awful but this woman has never shown me one single emotion in my life, or compassion to me, and I have not one idea how to comfort her.... I just can't, period.

Oh well, such is life eh? I'll soldier on. Might go see 'LS' tomorrow, might go fill that bloody dip in the drive dad made just to be awkward to the neighbours, such fun my life is!