Monday, January 12, 2015

Gradually slipping away

Readers of this blog may have noticed that I've spent most of my time on here talking about my own life and my future, rather than talking about Dylan. There are a few reasons for this. The first reason is that Dylan's suicide has had a knock on effect on nearly every aspect of my life since he died, so it's natural to talk about my life in the context of this blog. The second reason is that this blog is not about Dylan, it's about me, and my grief for my memories of Dylan is not the same as grief for Dylan (my other family members would write very different posts if they kept blogs.) The third reason is that I've already written a lot about Dylan on an old LiveJournal account, and that was very cathartic. The final reason is that it's sometimes too painful to write about. These blog posts take time, not just to write, but to find the right frame of mind and the time needed for reflection. I'll spend the rest of this post giving an example of something about the loss of Dylan that bothers me.

This is how I remember Dylan.

Dylan and I used to share a very small bedroom. We had bunkbeds and we'd often stay up late at night, listening to the radio and talking to each other. I can still sing the theme tune to the "Late Night Munster Show" that ran from 10pm to 1am (very late for 10 and 12 year old boys!) One of my most vivid memories was one night when we made up our own lyrics to the theme tune to One Foot in the Grave. For some reason I thought that the words said "You silly old fool. One foot in the grave." They don't say anything like that, but that didn't stop us from changing the word "fool" to the worst insults we could imagine. We played that game for about an our or more, instead of getting to sleep. It's one of my fondest childhood memories. At the same time as being a pleasant memory it also scares me. This is the first time I've ever shared this story about Dylan and as much as I'd love to reminisce about it I can't. Dylan's dead and he can't talk to me about it. I'm the only person alive who remembers it and when I forget it will be forgotten forever, and I won't even realise it. Every time I forget about something I shared with Dylan part of him slips away forever. There's already so much I must have already forgotten and will never get back, and it's only going to get worse. It's a kind of loss that follows you around for the rest of your life. I've accepted that he's dead, but that doesn't mean that the loss stops there, I'll keep losing bits of him as the memories fade, one by one.