...not just thinking about the weather.
Been sick most of the weekend. I guess the flesh is finally feeling all the strain (be it physical, emotional, or mental). There are muscle pains, headaches, bouts with fever and occasional hallucinations. Okay, no hallucinations. But still quite sick.
They say that sickness is a manifestation of inner ills. I think my inner ill is ill-restraint. I haven't been able to stop when I ought to--stop working, stop playing, stop eating, stop everything. I've never been one for moderation, which would probably spell the death of me.
Speaking of death, last night I had mortal thoughts again. Thoughts about my mortality and how it would be if I finally breathed my last breath, spurred, no doubt, by the sinking feeling in me and how I haven't been to see a doctor in almost two years. How would it be to live in a void (yes you are speaking to a non-practicing Catholic), to have your existence snuffed out when you were so used to being alive, to experiencing things, to seeing and hearing and touching and feeling. Oh, and smelling and tasting.
To enter the endless night would mean to never to hug my mother and father again, never to see my or my sisters' offspring, never to read and reread my favorite books, never to fall asleep again at night to my favorite music, never again to smell the crisp smell of his favorite cologne, or taste fresh strawberries. To die I would give up everything I had gotten so used to in this mortal coil; but although there is an understandable degree of hesitation, now there seems to be less fear.
The last time I had these thoughts was five years ago, I think, at the height of getting-over-Z. I reckon the Higher Power guided me toward these thoughts because I had been muttering over and over again that I didn't want to live anymore. Does this mean that I am hitting an all-time low once more?
However, this time, although despair does hit a raw nerve, I'm more upbeat about it. For one, I think I am steadily formulating a spiritual theory that embraces an acceptance of an afterlife. Furthermore, I'm more concerned now with my own little jab at intimating immortality (no "take it, it's yours!" hereabouts). The next few months will be spent seeing how I can explore this. Although we keep the memory of our grandfather alive, it will die out when we die out, unless we pass this to our (most probably uninterested) children. And what if I don't have the children, which will most probably occur? Who will remember me?
Last night I made a decision to try to immortalize the two men without whom my parents would not have been who they are--two brave yet flawed men who charted the course of the destiny that would result in us tres marias. Because we will no longer be able to let our grandfathers' surnames live on, I thought this was the least I could do. Finally, I drafted a letter to my closest friends, outlining what to do if something did happen to me. I then drifted off to fitful sleep. I was tired when I woke up this morning.