IT CAN'T RAIN ALL THE TIME

Hi to everyone reading this whoever you are. 

Have made a video above to welcome all the anonymities. 
The internet's a funny place, a place we can all hide, make up what we want and be who we want to be. I'm far too transparent to try that. The truth is all I speak.
Im not strong enough to be an imposter of myself. 
Wonder who invented the internet, would it be ironic if i googled to find out?? haha. Be back in a second. ......
TIM BERNERS-LEE
I salute you Mr Lee. Absolute genius. 

The internet can bring people together, for instance it can help shy people (not that i have this problem) reconnect with social groups they are scared of, everntually integrating themselves to become one of a larger entity. 

Family, who live apart can bond ,even living thousands of miles away.  For me, posting on my brothers Facebook page makes me feel like he's not gone and that maybe he's reading it, sitting in Perth in a cosy flat. Every day i leave 3 little lovehearts on his page and to be honest, i sometimes think all his friends are fed up of seeing it on their Newsfeed but =, in a selfish way its helping me feel better. 

Its a lonely world without friends 
I sometimes wish i was shy, I used to be, believe it or not and i wish to God i didnt have an opinion on EVERYTHING. 

But I have to talk, like when i have an argument with someone , and cry in frustration, I drive home thinking 'DAMMIT, I SHOULD HAVE SAID THIS!!!" 
PITY you cant phone them back up 4 hours later and say "By the way, Your haircuts; stupid!" 
Human decency prevents the majority of us from saying what we want. I like most people anyway, but sometimes have a short fuse, more so since I lost Scott. See there i go, dragging him back  into everything. Ach i dont care, its my blog. 

So i have no idea who's reading this but it fascnates me when Google emails me the stats every day and there are 8 Russian people reading this ..so............dobryj vyechyer! dohb–rihy vye-cheer
YEAH I GOOGLED THAT!!!!
BET YOU WERE THINKING, Wow She is amazing, Dos va danya!!! (I didnt google that, think I heard it in Little Women somewhere.). 

"It can't rain all the time, ' - Brandon Lee, in The Crow. ]
This is a phenomenal film, partly because the gothic beauty it has portrays the fact that we are not gone, that we remain until our work is done and we love long after our bodies are dust. 

LOve is enduring, I honestly think i have to believe that or my heart would break. 
The thought that i will never see my brother again is too much for me to comprehend in my head, that he is lost somewhere. 


THIs poem below sums up what I hope death is.......

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well. 

Henry Scott Holland

Heaven is supposed to be happy, somewhere we have always dreamed of where we get to do what we want all day long. 
The Lovely Bones (read it Now if you havent done so already by Alice Seabold) is one of the most beautifully written books I HAVE ever read. If I could ever have claimed to have written anything in my life, It would be this book. I read it long before the film and the idea behind it is unique. 

The little girl in it is murdered as a young teenager and watches from Heaven while her family deal with her death and she, herself tries to come to terms with it. 
She eventually ends up in Heaven, her idea of Heaven where she stars as a Magazine cover star, meets friends, goes to the swing park and eats what she wants. 

The idea that the dead are as alone as we are vaguely makes sense to me.  They have the shock of dying, even if its expected and are lost. So even if they can see us, we at least have people who we can lean on while they perhaps are wandering until they find their way. 

Whether you believe in ghosts or spirits as such, whatever we ourselves become, are still made of the stuff we were before. 
OUr personality, love and feelings are something we take with us, away from all the physicalities and being soaked up into the atmosphere, can they see us?
If they can, my brother makes fun of me every day for being so weak. My tears falling for him, over stupid things (nipping the inside of my arm, and this wasnt  a childish thing, he did it the week before he died, i stil had the bruises at his funeral). 

Some of the pubs ive worked in are supposed to have ghosts in them, one in particular had the stuff through the back that i would take through the back with the barmaid when the pub was empty. 
Before we did this, she had told me once she put the barstools on the bar, put the equipment through the back, came through and the stools were back on the floor again. 

This is not uncommon of stories ive heard in pubs. One other reports having bar staff pushed out the way sometimes or people walking past them when no one is there. 

This kind of stuff fascinates me, whether or not  that's where we go or what we become, we lived and we were loved. 
My brother i will love every day of my life. 
Sometimes i feel selfish going on and on about Scott when i know other people are in the same position as me, some even more recently having lost someone, perhaps they're thinking they can't care about me when they're going through their own personal pain, and thats fine because thats exactly how i felt when SCott died. 

My son doesnt really talk about his uncle much, not to me anyway, and i think he's scared of me breaking down. 
I try and bring him up in funny conversations to encourage reisse to break his silence and he does jolly it along for a few minutes but doesnt ever bring him up first. My mum suggests its because he saw the wreck i was last year and for a 13 year old boy, he did his best but didnt know how to deal with it. 

My guilt over last year almost eclipses my grief. Almost, but not quite. 
I remember some bits as though it was yesterday and it will never go away but some is a haze.