The past 3 months have been insanely bad...by far the worst of my life.
starting on September 2nd 2005. I was in London, sitting at work doing not much (I had a security job...and so doing nothing is par for the course)when I got a phone call explaining that a very good friend of mine had tragically died the previous night, in a car accident. This was surreal, as Gian had always seemed invincible...he was the guy everyone called if they ever had any trouble anywhere...he knew everyone, and had connections in high places I guess...normally I despise this kind of "hardcore" person, but Gian was a genuine, nice dude....my mate Kyle (who was also in london with me) flew home for the funeral, but I was unable to...Kyle returned a week later.
It felt as if this was a "problem" that I would not have to deal with,since I wasnt going to be home for a few months and was unlikely to see any friends I associated with Gian.
A few days later, I heard that another friend had hanged himself...not nice news to receive...ever! Then Sergio (a female friend of mines ex-boyfriend) was shot by his cousin at his own 21st birthday party...he also passed away).
At this point I was gutted. I then heard from family, that a very close family friend had been diagnosed with AIDS...he passed away on September 21st.
This was all way too much for me to handle, but since I was in London, rermoved from all these people, I seemed to be able to just get on with it, almost as if I would deal with it all when I got home (supposed to have been in December)
On 30 October, I was woken by my brother, who had just returned from work early...he woke me calmly and told me that my father had been shot in an attempted armed robbery, he had been hit in the neck, but would apparently be okay...we talked it over with my mom, and decided initially that neither of us would fly home yet...he seemed to be stable, and us returning home would give him the wrong idea...we kept in contact throughout the morning, and after speaking to his best mate, both of us were flying out of London that evening...we arrived in South Africa at 10am the following morning, ready to visit my dad in hospital...he had died two hours before we landed, he was 50 years old...This was not the way I imagined coming home...and its ll ****ing hard.
To top it off, an old boss and friend of mine was shot and killed on the weekend after I arrived home....then last Monday, a really good family friend (the priest-he then left priesthood and got married, but remained prominant in the catholic church here-who had married my folks, baptised myself and my siblings, and recently done a memorial service for my dad) had a heart attack,he was running with his dog when he collapsed near the lake and died...police found him and as he had no id on him, had to follow the dog home and inform his wife and kids...he was 56.
Its now been 7 deaths in 3 months and everytime I think its the last one, another happens...I'm hanging by the thinnest of threads...and feel kinda guilty, because although so many friends have died, I am still processing the murder of my dad, still mourning him and haven't even started on the others...
[FONT=Century Gothic]Hope is when we feel the pain that makes us try again[/FONT]
