Sunday, March 5th, 2000
2231


Since Wednesday, I've been pretty much OK.  Things haven't changed too much for me.  I'm back here in North Carolina, sitting in my room, typing away at my computer.  I went to the golf course today and hit some balls on the driving range (I hit them real nice too) and putted around a bit, literally.  Changed the oil in my car yesterday and was going to wash it today but the lines were too long.  Played some computer games, drank a bottle of Jim Beam.
But in these last few days, out of nowhere, the realization comes:  John is dead.  This single thought will play itself through my mind over and over and over, like a mantra leading towards insanity rather than enlightenment and peace.  Part of me knows it's because I'm still in shock about it, part of me wants it to be all just a bad dream...but the me that I can control is not in shock, does not deny...He's gone and we'll never talk to him again, never see him laughing or smiling, nothing.

I know the real reason why these sudden pings hit.  It's because John's death is a sign of the changes forthcoming.  John died, just like my mother will die, my father will die and so many other people I love will die--many before I do.  My time in the army will end and at some point I will be out in the workforce doing whatever it is I've finally dragged myself into doing.  The plain fact of the matter is that comfort is an illusion.  Nothing is as it seems to be, at least not for long.  I have always just pictured the family intact, every person present.  I have never pictured the family gatherings shrinking in number, just as I had never imagined them enlarging.

For the last several years of my life, I have plodded along like nothing was changing, that everything was the same as it had been a year or two or three ago; I was the same person with the same ambitions, the same morals, the same gifts and skills.  For the most part, it was true, and there were no abrupt drastic changes in my outlook on life...but little by little, things *have* changed about me and my outlook...my ideas about religion, the military, literature, love, purpose...the ideals are not the same.  Even this journal itself is different, in appearance and in it's composition.  I didn't picture the changes, but they happened right underneath my nose, some with my assistance, consciously or not, some without.

So I've never tried to gaze into the future, never tried to picture myself twenty, ten, or even five eyars from now--never thought about what my world would encompass in the next few years.  To a large extent, this is a major cause to my indecisiveness...by not addressing the future, I could not plan for it.

My uncle is gone.  The present is not like the past, and the future will not be like the present.  We need to act with this in mind.



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