Once again, tho tired I sit here in the wee hours of the morning cnotemplating my granma. We have to scatter her ashes in the morning.

I wonder if I am cold and heartless when I say to my mother I don’t want to go. I had a hard enough time dealing with gran’s death. I haven’t felt inspired, I haven’t felt joy, instead I look at people and I see egg timers above their heads marking the time until they pass on. I look at myself in the mirror and see the marks of time on my face. Remarkably, I have very few lines on my face, I don’t have wrinkles, I am going to be 30. I see some lines under my eyes where I smile, and some across my forehead where’s its been furrowed with deep thoughts.. or so I hope.

I have actively been taking care of my skin since I was 21, but more recently I’ve been thinking about my own mortality. So I get better moisturiser, work harder to lose that weight and begin to think about the things I haven’t done. Which is stupid. I think tho in some way what some of my family are being melodramatic. (looks at the invitation) I felt sick looking at it. Mum tried to explain to me that some people need closure. I don’t want to look at some grey dust and think of gran. I can’t face the idea that she’s finally gone. I want to know that Gran’s reading in her room with her favourite Sidney Sheldon book peering over her glasses at me and smiling wondering what I am up to.

I went on a buying spree today and brought CD’s i might listen to once or twice and never pick up again. Just things that would fill the void. Worst of all, I’ll be alone. In my head. I might have a cross on to remind me of people and places where I would give anything to be. Just to be held.

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