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Brian John Thomas!

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Jan. 19th, 2006 @ 02:32 am
I swear. Soon.

Dec. 6th, 2005 @ 01:31 am
It's coming. Soon.

I can't keep from feeling that it's long overdue. Trust me, I don't want it right now but it's time. An unfortunate time, but time nonetheless.

The moments are becoming closer and closer together now, bleeding from one to the next it seems. This blur is about to go grey. Then it all begins again from there.

of sorts Nov. 12th, 2005 @ 12:04 am
I don't think I could even begin.

I've started this journal so many times. And it's never right. It never fleshes out. When I'm not here (late at night in my car) everything comes together.

But I realize when I get home it's just the hook or the ten word-answer to something that can't even come close to being touched by that.

I want to leave.web stats analysis

"September" Oct. 3rd, 2005 @ 03:17 am
Something told me not to answer the phone. But I did.

At first all I heard was excitement. Then it came. We somehow missed you. You fell through the cracks of the phonebook, old friends, and the word of mouth. I thought of you, I did. From all the stories. The trips. So many good times, he said. You missed the wave of information, distanced yourself from the loop. It’s one of the hardest things about this entire situation. Telling the people who least expect it. And remembering them, roo

It always catches up. I could hear it in your voice. One old friend calling to talk to another. The years between calls always seemed to pass quickly. I remember you called last summer. It came at such a good time for him, it was so nice to hear him laugh again. Those calls made him young and healthy again.

I felt you drop. The pause, the hard swallow followed by the quiver.

What could I say? God, you’re so behind.
I just wanted to let you know that Dad's final moments were ones where he knew he would finally be at peace again. Free from all of the chains his ailments put on his body. Free from the daily suffering, making each hour and minute seem like an eternity sometimes. In the last few years and especially the last few months, we really saw dad in an insurmountable amount of discomfort. Having known what he was so capable of during his prime, it was so sad and hard to watch. But god damn, he was strong and had such a desire to get better. Up until the very end, he always had hope. Whenever I'd ask him if he wanted anything (more along the lines of a glass of water or a bite to eat), he'd always reply with "How about a new set of lungs!" All he wanted to do was get better and start going to his Knights of Columbus meetings again, and to be able to just interact normally with life.

I've been thinking a lot lately about his last few months, and I truly have no idea how he pulled through. Standing up literally made him out of breath, let alone the walk to the bathroom from the couch. I knew that wasn't the man he wanted to be, but he just had so much fight. So much to give everyone. You know how giving and caring he was. I don't know if this makes any sense, but I was thinking today that his soul and spirit were working so hard his entire life that they finally out-paced his body and it eventually gave up. That's why I haven't been saying he passed away, but instead passed on. On the last day he was talking so much about his "new job up in heaven" that he had to attend to. He so looked forward to again meeting his parents, his grandparents, and his father-in-law. He also couldn't wait to talk about the Yankees and have a beer with Babe Ruth and Mikey Mantle. Alicia and Ellen (mikes girlfriend) saw him waving out the door of the hospital room the on Tuesday. When they asked him why he was waving at nobody, he turned to them and said, "Silly, just because you can't see anybody doesn't mean nobody is there." He really held on to his faith in the end, and I've always known that's what he believed would happen. He would meet all of these people that he hadn't seen for so long. Knowing that, and seeing him open his eyes and smile right before his last breathe has made this entire experience so much more comforting to us all. To me at least, it's meant the world and I think of it as just another one of the many lessons he's given me.

He was so excited with his decision to go on the "comfort care." At first it was so hard to comprehend but then selfishness resided and I remembered all of the suffering and pain he was going through. He knew it was the end, he would never fully recover. It was so inconsistent with how he lived his life. And especially inconsistent from how he wanted to live his life.
I know the upcoming days, months and years are going to be so difficult. But I keep going back to the knowledge that for the first time in years he's no longer suffering. He was able to finally get the upper-hand on his disease and make sure he did things on his own terms. Things feel so quiet around here. The amazing force that's always been there in our lives isn't around physically anymore. But he says he'll be watching over us and has no qualms about haunting us if need be! I think he's already started having some fun with that, too. It's going to take a lot of getting used to.

I think it’s hard for everyone outside of the five of us to really understand. You only heard the news in pieces, and only spoke to him on the phone for the most part. You only encountered his mind. You didn’t see the body. So it’s hard, and I understand. I feel sorry for you, because this has to be so hard for you.

I still haven’t called the house phone and heard the message. Mom told you to call back though, and listen to it. “Still sounds the same. Goodbye.” During those last few days, I heard a lot of last “goodbyes” but I’ll never forget that one. The way the words hung in the air. It's dark. And I keep running, screaming at the top of my lungs in a room full of people who can't hear me.


and in the end... Sep. 9th, 2005 @ 11:33 pm
Well this is it. They're not going to try and help him anymore. Slowly, they've begun their countdown.
Other entries
» He's going.
I guess it's worse than they expected.

I honestly don't know what good they expected, though.

Much worse. He pretty much killed my mom and sister when he told them about the last rites. Jesus.
» what's the use
What, it's been about a month? Let's see, here it goes.

I'm not going to lie. These past few months have been good. Real good. I've been running this race and have no intentions of slowing down or looking back. Sometimes everything clicks, and all at the same time. That's what it is friend.

Everything makes sense. My timing has been ungodly. I'm happy. It's the feeling that there just aren't enough hours in the day, sleep keeps getting in the way.

And I know what I want. It's just not that. Why would I want that? Especially now. I just have to find a way to tell them, which I'm not looking forward to. I got myself into this mess and I'll get out of it. It's already half done.

Yeah , you. I know what it can bring. But I also know what come's along with it. Sure, that wasn't normal. Sure most of that was wrong on many levels. But it's there in most of them, to some extent. Bullshit. That's what it is. I don't want that burden anymore. Why would I want that to always be around.

Although once in a while that feeling does creep up and it says, "Brian, you're all wrong" I remind it of everything, and it goes away. Yeah, gone.

Dad went away again today. He hasn't really been "there" for months now though. Although he's degraded ten-fold these past few weeks. I think he "retired" today. I never got that update. It's his lungs, his heart, his eyes. I used to take solace in the fact that he at least he still had his mind. Gone, too. He's a mess, and I think we all kind of know this is the beginning of the end. I can't forsee him going on much longer at this pace.

I guess.
» who really cares anymore?
And it's really funny how quickly you can come down from such a high.

He's going. Soon. Fuck.
» List, again
The list, part two.
» My stupid big mouth
I had to go and say something, didn't I? You know, it just slipped out, too. And now he's upset while the other one is making fun of him for even thinking it.

But you know, he's happy. And that's fine. I think I just made things a bit worse for him, that's all.

Oh fucking well.
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