The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]

Did you all have an amazing holiday?

Given I’m writing this on January 15th and broke up for the holidays on December 21st, 2023 … it’s fair to say I did.

Different to one’s we’ve had in the past in NZ, but given those involved hospital visits, death and copious amounts of rain … I was here for it.

As I wrote last year, I made – and kept – a resolution. However this year I just have hope.

Not general hope, something specific so we’ll see if it works out. That said – being a superstituious idiot – I’m not going to fuck up its chances by saying what it is, haha.

So let’s start with year 18 of this blog.

EIGHTEEN.

An adult … that is more manchild … that is also the oldest of old people, given blogs stopped being relevant somewhere around 2014.

About the last time I wrote a relevant post.

But then this is less about that and more about me having a dumping ground for what’s in my head. Good, bad, stupid.

It’s also so when I’m gone, something of me hangs around.

Not for my ego, but for my son.

A place to stay connected to his Dad – and Mum – throughout his life.

Of course, whether he wants to do that is up to him … but I’d rather he has the choice than none at all.

Personally, the idea of having a place I could go to hear my parents voice – literally or through their words – would be wonderful for me.

In many ways, I ‘feel’ them more than hear them, and as comforting as that is, the reality is I would love more. Much, much more.

Of course, I am sure if I had that, it would raise a million questions.

Questions for more information.
Questions for deeper understanding.
Questions for more knowledge and advice.

And maybe the inability to get answers to these questions would ignite pain that it has taken me years to get past …

Or stop me being able to keep moving forward …

But I don’t think so. I think it would be more comforting to know they are still – in some way – part of my physical present.

That I am still able to engage with all their wonderful, silly, provocative, passionate and considerate and compassionate ways.

Oh how wonderful that would be.

Which is what I hope can happen for Otis.

And his Mum.

Or at least know it’s there for them should they want it to be there.

Because while blogging may be out-of-date, the reality is I wouldn’t care about the platform, just the access.

Now I appreciate this is not the usual comeback post.

Especially at the beginning of a new year … full of possibilities and hope.

But not only is death a topic we don’t talk about enough until we don’t have a choice … tomorrow will be 25 years since my Dad passed, so you’ll forgive me for my sentimentalty.

Besides, he’d secretly love that he is still so important in my life, even though he’d never want it to stop me living my life.

And he hasn’t.

Which I’ll let him – and you – know about tomorrow.