This Time Last Year

by Marcus Pan

Chain Border

How many of you keep a journal? I do. Silly, maybe, but it's one of the few things that defines me on the outside. I lost a lot of them from various means; from stupidity to computer related problems. Right now only a few hundred pages exist, most of which are from the last 1 1/2 years or so. Anyway, I try to write in it as often as I can. Sometimes I miss a week or more, other times I'll do three entries in a day. It all depends...the fact that there is no set schedule makes it more natural. Compared to some of the other writing some of you may have seen from me the past couple of years, the writing sometimes gets very messy; stream-of-conscious-style...and not polished up, fresh from the skull. Anyway, I was reading through it tonight...if you keep a journal you should do that...it helps sometimes. Just a few words or a paragraph could bring an entire memory flooding back to you. If it's a bad one you'll probably think how much better things are now. If it's a good one you'll relish it. So it's a win-win situation, really. Anyway, tonight I decided to read entries dated exactly a year ago. And on 6/28/97, two days shy of a year, I found this. Thought some of you might like it. It's about my Mom. I've only mentioned her maybe 2-3 times on the newsgroup, and usually fleetingly, in all the time I've been here. I was very close to her, she was my best friend. And I miss her.

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The Sixth Journal of Marcus Pan
Entry # 39 - June 28, 1997 @ 12:53AM

It was a rough day today. Today we went to Jenny Jump Forest to deliver Mom and Aunt Edie. It was a rough thing to do…to touch her ashes, touch HER in a way. I have few wishes…very few. The ones I've had I used up trying to get various things, none of which worked. And my final wish is something that can not naturally be. I only wish, that somehow, Mom could see me now…see how I've found a family and Laura. See her first granddaughter. See…and just know that I'm ok. Today was the first time I was able to say "goodbye." I was working when she passed on. And to toss her ashes into the trees of Jenny Jump from the top of the mountain…it was, finally, a goodbye. I threw her one of my cigarettes too. And, somehow, I could almost hear her bitch at me for not smoking a menthol brand. And then I broke down.

(Originally posted in alt.gothic.)

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