Here It Goes Again...

Where to start today?
It's been 27 hours
since my youngest daughter died.

I keep thinking of Albert Camus first line of the Stranger:

Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.

Aujourd’hui, maman est morte.

Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.

J’ai reçu un télégramme de l’asile :

« Mère décédée.

Enterrement demain.

Sentiments distingués. »

Cela ne veut rien dire.

C’était peut-être hier.

Earlier today I thought it had been 48 hours and that we were Sunday.
Well my computer says
(and it's a reliable source)
that we are Saturday the 7th of July. 
It's all a bit confusing also with all them time zones especially when one dies at 22h00. 

So for her it was Thursday July 5th at 10:00 PM
and for me it was Friday July 6th at 10:00 AM

*Spoiler Alert*

I am also reminded a lot of the Stranger because his way of grieving was a bit his undoing somehow.  

* End of Spoiler Alert*

P.S. I should read the book again

I do turn into blubber occasionally but one can't just "blubber" all the time especially when one is driving for instance.

I keep repeating the best line ever that Priscilla left me during my May visit:

LIFE IS FOR THE LIVING

I was torturing myself with guilt last August over our holidays in Arles and Priscilla kept encouraging me and tell me to go on and send her tons of photos so she could live it vicariously.

Speaking of which I learned in May that a "old friend" of mine used this guilt viciously 

as the cult leader 

we used to have 

used to do.

Anyway there was no guilt here in May and in fact we thrived on that French song that says

Y'a pas d'coupables Y'a pas de honte.
There is no guilt and no shame

When one faces the inexorable grip of death like another prophet Farrokh Bulsara once said:

Anyone can see

NOTHING REALLY
MATTERS ANYMORE.

OK unlike my previous habit I will close this blog to move on to another subject now even though altogether it is the same subject, one big subject altogether.

And as to the "spiritual" things
I stand with Pratchett

Take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder and sieve it through the finest sieve and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. and yet... and yet you act as if there is some ideal order in the world, as if there is some... some rightness in the universe by which it may be judged.

Terry Pratchett