Love

I have a puppy dog, she loves me & I adore her, this has been the best thing to happen in the past 2 months.

Had surgery again, 2 weeks ago; the pain is getting back to my base level. But having the companionship & unconditional love from Foxy has been the best salve to soothe my heart.

N has been great too, so supportive & understanding — it feels so natural to have such an easy companion again. I guess I'm just terrified that my illnesses will make N to burnout or that the cancer or the madness or the MS/MND(??) will become an issue that will create a rift in our friendship.

I'm terrified that N will leave me ( yes, I know N has said that won't happen, but it could happen).

I still feel like everyone else will be better when I die, I still want to die, and yet, I'm allowing myself to enjoy the joy of these new companionships, p'haps foolishly.

Summer humid days & nights

It's been a long while...

The humidity makes my exhaustion even more, having so many different health issues concurrently is frustrating; not knowing for certain what/why is wrong & the worst thing ever is when you get to find yourself in a state filled with dread and uncertainty. Are the conditions discrete or related? Who knows!,

Cancer is a cuntery of epic proportions. 

I'm back at work, and it is already boring beyond belief, things that seemed challenging initially have turned out to be terribly dull and easy, I so hate having to pretend to be dumb so I don't annoy my colleagues and clients; so I can try to have a conversation which will usually be about something entirely trivial and useless. Sometimes, when I'm feeling very unwell, mundane and easy talk is as much as I can manage but I hate to have to play dumb to "fit in".

I've taken on a paramour, beautiful eyes,  clear and truthful; generous, kind, content with life, beautiful inside and out, affectionate too, and such a wonderful lover, sex is incredibly satisfying. But I am confused, I'm still very much in love with Simon, and the saddest thing is: he's never coming back, I'll never be able to hear his voice again or caress his beautiful body. 

The source of my internal conflict is that I have fallen hard, head over heels for the new man. Can you love two people at the same time? Sometimes I feel as if I'm betraying Sim; and other times I feel I am betraying F when we have sex I'm making love to S. Not all the time though, many times I'm giving myself completely to F.

I know he doesn't love me back. Unrequited love is a terribly sad affair. 

2016

Another year has gone, a new one has commenced, I am still heartbroken and alone, the latter by choice, the former by circumstance.

All the new hoops and hurdles thrown in my path are just distractions and will ultimately only work on my favour, they are making me more savvy, more confident, more resilient. I'm learning more about the human condition, I'm learning that indeed greed has no limits & that when someone gets butt-hurt to the point all they want to do is cause you harm, you better be prepared for them to start hurling shit at you, just like an ape who's displeased.

I truly hope that when they finally see their own face in the mirror they will have the balls to admit the hideous imagine being reflected is the Golum they have finally become.  Maybe they'll get a therapist to help them work on their obsessive & narcissistic personality.  

Happy new year fuckers!

Stalking people is bad juju, harassment is a potential offence. 

Having a tantrum because you're not getting what you want and you are past 40 is simply sad and pathetic. 

So you're angry and had your feels hurt by not being able to control and manipulate others, well, get fucking over it. 

Be that most excellent person you claim to be and understand that if someone chose not to tell you something it might be because they knew you are a double faced person unworthy of their confidence. 

Learn to own up to the fact that others can see you are only interested in your personal gain. 

Kicking someone when they're down is a lowly act, trying to use other's vulnerability to bring them down and quite possibly affect their health is despicable, all that hate you have inside will eat you – but that's exactly what you deserve. 

No, you will never break my spirit and no matter how hard you try, you will never take my wonderful times and memories, I am far stronger than you can possibly imagine and I am calm and assured in the knowledge that I know the truth and all your attempts at hurting me will fail. 

Enjoy your bitterness. 

I will enjoy my life. 

The Day of the Hungry Spirits

http://thehoopla.com.au/

IT’S THE DAY OF THE HUNGRY SPIRITS

BY MARIANA GARVILCH NOVEMBER 3, 2014  131  88 6

Last night, I gave my Simon his favourite fruit: mango, nectarines, kiwi fruit, apples. I bought him a rather fine bottle of Tequila if he had wanted to have a toast with me. Last night, I spoke with him. My Simon was a wonderful, kind-hearted gentleman and I offered him food and conversation for Días de Muertos; or Day of the Dead.

Day of the Dead as it is known in English is something of a mistranslation; it’s not one day, but three. I was born and raised in the south-west of Mexico City in the suburb of Tlalpan and there we began celebration on October 31, the Catholic All Hallows Eve.

During this night we prepare the house to receive our honoured guests—those departed souls whom we love. There’s All Hallows (or All Saints) on November 1 followed by the biggest celebration, All Souls Day on November 2. This festival is so important in Mexico, it’s even a public holiday. Yesterday, I celebrated it at home on the New South Wales coast.

Today, November 3, is not observed by so many, but in my tradition from Tlalpan, it’s one more day where we remember all those souls who have no one to remember them. It is dedicated to the Hungry Spirits, and they receive and deserve the same joyous treatment as our loved ones, for one day our names will too be forgotten.

There are a few things in the offering, or ofrenda, for the dead that must be present, no matter what:

Water, a gift from the gods and giver of life.

Salt, an essential element for health.

Flowers, givers of beauty and a symbol of love and gratitude.

And last, but never least: candles. They light the spirits’ journey into the realm of the living and to find their way back into the otherworld.

You can add the loved one’s favourite fruit, sweets, tobacco, etc. to the ofrenda. The only limit is your imagination and budget.

I don’t want to forget him. So I nourish his memory.

My Simon died last year in August so I’ve had already had a small feast for him, but it wasn’t as elaborate as I would have liked. Last year, I had to travel to for treatment from my medical specialists. I’m living, as it turns out, with my own risk of being soon-forgotten – a life-threating, medical condition.

Back then all I could put in my ofrenda was water, salt, silk flowers and a bag of jelly snakes. Oh and some cigarettes; my Simon was a smoker. This year it has was a better and bigger ofrenda, and as I was setting it up I had a chance to talk to my dearly departed and reminisce about our good times. This year, I have made room to remember those others who have gone. My grandmother and a group of other loved ones found their way by candlelight to my home.

Last night I performed a wake to welcome all these souls and we dined and spoke together.

I talked to Simon about the wonderful times we had camping to the Royal National Park in Garie Beach and North Era Beach in southern Sydney. We would spend days there swimming, sleeping, reading and eating jelly snakes. We would spend nights staring at the millions of stars. He would tell me stories of silly things he did when growing up and I would tell him about the knowledge I have of my First Nation Peoples’ traditions.

I’d tell him the story of the rabbit on the moon, the story of how the Milky Way was created.

One story he always liked is related to the Días de Muertos. I told him of the Conquistadors who imposed Roman Catholic faith and forbade any worship of the old deities. But, the Indigenous people of the Americas always found ways to pass on knowledge hidden in codes.

For these people, particularly those who shared Nahuatl as their language, there were five Cardinal Points, each associated to a particular energy and colour. Today, these form part of a traditional ofrenda.

We all know north, south, east, and west, but then there’s also the centre. Anywhere you are, at any given point in time, you are in the centre of the universe. You can never be lost.

It has been over a year since Simon was lost, and although it is unspeakably painful to be without him, yesterday I recalled one afternoon when we were having mojitos and talking–we were probably over the limit–and he promised me we would be together until the end of his days.

And so it was. He was and remains my centre.

This year, the ofrenda has been a very positive experience for me. I feel like he is here. I feel that after all the tragedy the year has given me, I’m going to be okay.

Like my grandma whom I also remembered, I am a warrior.

Thanks to Simon, I have had the chance to survive, like a fighter, and experience a love that will always win.

 

 

 Mariana Garvilch lives in Coffs Harbour, NSW. She is a painter and a (wonderful) writer. 

Embrace

I can feel the warm embrace of my chemical combination to reduce the pain, tonight I had just a bit more and washed it down with some red wine, I want to feel something other than pain – physical, emotional, psychological. 

Sadly, the warmth only lasts for a few minutes and then the pain will only be dulled for an hour, then back to reality I go. Reality goes on and it strangles me

Call me anytime

“Call me anytime” you said, and I did.

Assaulted with RUOK day again, another round of telling people that their once-a-year inquiry about a depressed friend will achieve something, another round of keeping my head down in case someone asks me.

For the other 364 I'll do my best to pretend that I am okay, because I know damn well that there's only so much of me others can take.

You told me to call anytime, and for a while, I did. 

And for a while it helped. It's just that I took you literally, and just like every time before, with every friend who quit listening, I thought this time I was loved even if I was a downer.

The circumstances of life – being someone's carer, watching someone gradually relinquish their facilities, keeping my fears to myself to escape the tears – are a downer. 

I always promised that next time we talked, I'd be cheerful. I'd have good news, and we'd swap playful puns and plan a visit with the families. But there's always something new and it's never good.

Little-by-little, you withdrew. Instead of weekly, we would talk fortnightly or monthly. Finally, not at all; you occasionally and briefly answer e-mails promising a proper reply that never arrives.

Greed

I was supposed to go into hospital today, once again a visit to the psych clinic because my brain doesn't work and the melancholy is terrible. 

It was planned as a way to cocoon me from the shitstorm that people have created, and all just because they cannot understand that we had a life together and we chose not to tell them so they couldn't interfere in our decisions and our love. 

Their actions are pathetic and only prove we were always right in not trusting them. 

They are greedy and having a meltdown because they won't get what they want.  

Let them go get fucked!

In the beginning

I have been crying for over a thousand  days and nights.

Throughout this time my grief has had different smells, in the beginning it smelled of him, I refused to wash his clothes and I would wear selected items depending on how needy for his presence I felt, it took me over a month to finally change the bedding, I couldn't even bear the idea; then my sorrow started smelling of hospitals, particularly of psychiatric units and coffee shops and terrible food in the institutions. It never smells like food in my home, I don't cook anymore, I hate eating by myself so I very seldom eat anything I made. I eat very little now, the whole desire for food eludes me.

My own body odour is also indicative of my deepest sadness, I can't care for having a shower for many days when I'm alone, it had never really been this bad, I guess I'm just allowing my exterior truly match the way I feel. It is not a punishment, for me it is a form of surrendering to my pain, and I can only do that when I am alone. Living alone just facilitates this form of surrender.

But when I must go out I use his aftershave as moisturising base before sunscreen, I also have  shower gel and eau de toilette matching the aftershave, I don't care if it's a men's fragrance, it smells like him and it's all I have now.

This year has been so cruel, I'm sure I smell of medicines - analgesics, antidepressants, anxiolytics, antiemetics, anticonvulsants, anti-inflammatories, and all other classes of pills I have to take every day to help keep my body surviving. Pain smells of chlorhexidine hand wash, and it began smelling like the hydrotherapy pool. I'm sure I smell of bitter desperation.

The day it all began I smelled of doubt and uncertainty, of exasperated nerves by countless hours of waiting for news by the phone, of interviews with detectives, of rejection from his family,

and then, not long after came the smell of the tedious ritual of filling all sorts of legal paper work and thousands of forms and applications. And the smell of pitiful wilting flowers.

Since the beginning my loneliness smells of anguish at not having enough money for rent, bills, essential medications, and food; smells of pretending I'm managing and utterly collapsing in a heap of sobs behind closed doors. It smells of strange cars of people trying to be nice to me by driving me to airports or medical appointments. Airports are amongst the olfactory cues that I identify with my grief.

My heartache smells of death, of pain, of desperate loneliness, of tears and poor hygiene. Why did it all go so wrong? He was finally getting better, we were actually having a good time as a couple after having what had felt like the longest time of fighting, hurting, and resenting one another. We were lovingly looking after each other.

In my head I can play every word we said, I have the blessing/curse of a gifted memory, and I remember even the most inconsequential details, but I don't control when my mood will be better for thinking specific memories, so when my mind presents me with bits of conversations and times shared together it can make me feel good or just aggravate my grief.

That look in his eyes that was full of love, the look he had just for me every time I returned from a trip away or I cooked something he really enjoyed eating or when he felt particularly proud of being my man for whatever reason, that look of pure love, I miss it so much it aches. I miss being able to share a full meaning with just one look, I knew it was love because it was the same look he had when he spoke of the ocean and surfing, and the same look that was in his eyes whenever he spoke about flying. It must be the same look I had every time I saw him walking towards me and he could see only me. I miss him every living minute, how could I not? He was TheOne.

"I love you very much, I will be OK XXX" those where his last words to me in the beginning.

Not gone yet

Many things have changed since the last post, many remain the same. 

Life goes on and drags you with it, kicking and screaming and fighting it but it drags you none the less. 

I remain, perhaps I must endure so I can bear witness 

Didn't count

I've taken lots of Valium and a bunch of other pills and I hope there will be a lovely sunrise tomorrow, and people go on about their business of buying newspapers and walking looking important, even when they line up to buy their terrible lunches because "it's healthy and organic and paleo and I can't eat gluten" 

Sunshiny day for all those wankers, and I hope I won't be there because I will be with Simon, finally free of the angst that's inherent to being human.

Enjoy a great life darlings .

Just this once

When I got told you were dead all I wanted to do was be next to your body, I wanted to hold your beautiful hands and kiss them, I wanted to hug you and kiss you and clean your body and I wanted to be allowed to spend time with you, but that was denied to me, I was not even allowed to go to the mortuary because she said "she's no family"

Then that night I spent in the lounge, crying, praying, in agony unable to believe I will never see you again because you were dead. 

All my everything died that day. I had never belonged anywhere, proof of that is all my different places I've lived in, but with You, I belonged with you and it was wonderful. 

I don't feel anything but I know I'm still alive, but I don't want to be alive, and if I went ahead and joined you it would fuck them up. 

They never saw how beautiful you were

The wonderful light and the warmth of your love is gone and I don't want to spend another minute here without you

Chips

I like to watch the leaves falling off the trees, floating for what must seem an eternity for them.

When I was a child, perhaps 8 or 9 I had mumps, that was the only reason why I was allowed to stay home from school, I got out of bed and went outside, there was a beautiful raven calling, his plumes were blue-black, the most beautiful colour I had ever seen, until something else caught my eye. 

A huge butterfly was just resting on the ground, it was dark purple with black edges and a few electric-blue dots, I have never seen anything like it ever again, I got told I was probably hallucinating because I had a high fever, I don't know, can't remember, but I know it gave me so much joy to see such beauty.

A long time has passed since that day, and along the way I have lost some people I loved with all my heart, but every time I've lost someone, there has been a butterfly crossing my path.

Now it's my time to go, I'm told to put my affairs in order. I just wish it was faster. Every day a tiny piece of me gets lost, or perhaps goes back to where I belong - I don't know.

There's the siren's song calling from my bed side table, 'do it now' it says, 'it'll only be a minute'. The temptation is strong and I must resist because I'm not done, because my affairs aren't in order yet, because there are things out of my control. So I must remain with this life chipping away at my soul. 

But I yearn to become the butterfly with the dark purple wings and float in the air like the falling leaves of a tree, together with S for the rest of eternity. 

Simon, amado mío, heart of my heart,

I saw a turtle swimming, SouthWest Rocks was visible on the distance, I thought about you all the time, remember we promised you'd teach me how to fish.  We also spoke about riding the bikes along the wall, we said we'd paint some art on the concrete boulders to make it less boring.

I miss you so much, it actually hurts. My heart is broke in pieces and my head's a mess.

When I die nobody will remember me, and I'll be gone.

But before I die, I will make sure your son will keep your memory.

I take comfort knowing that my time is also coming to an end, and soon I will be with you again.

Empty

I have cried so much today my eyes are red, raw, puffy and sore, I have a headache, and the empty space in my chest feels bigger.

I am lost.

Everyone feels at liberty of telling me what I should do of late, my friends telling me not to do ...., your sister telling me to do xxxxxx, I wish you could tell me what you'd do in my place my love.

I wish you could hug me and tell me it will all be OK.

Only some are not telling me what to do but only because they've discarded me, except for M, who told me what to do before telling me they can't be my friend, I know those who have left me can't deal with the fact that I may not have long to live but it truly hurts they just have given up on me, nobody knows how fast the MND is gonna take me, it may be the cancer in the kidney, who the fuck knows, what if I survive both? Being forsaken when you really need friends is so very sad. But nothing will ever compare to the pain of having to live in a world without your smile.

No matter what I decide to do, I will piss someone off, everything is so confusing and so hard, it is so unfair!

Doing what's best for me is not an option, I can't do what I truly want because I must first ensure I do what's best for your son, so I must wait and fight for the rights of a kid who will never know me.

Until the kid's future is secured I must remain, but I just want to be with you.

Somehow I must endure.

Anniversary

The first anniversary has come to pass, that intense week at the end of August when Simon died, the weeks after until 12September the funeral and then I am expected to be ready to "move on" and "let it go", well, I can't, I don't want to, I don't even know how to do that.

Every night my heart aches for his love, my body longs for his hands, for his lips, for his kisses. I miss his voice and his laughter, hi shyness, I miss my best friend talking to me. We were never people of words but we always showed our love with deeds, I would cook a nice meal, he would clean, 

I miss you so much Simon my darling, I'm aching for your love.

Please come to me in my dreams and let me show you the love I've kept for you. Please come

Façades

During my last hospital stay I met Jay, as soon as I saw him there was a sense of instant recognition, as if I knew him, I let the feeling pass, dismissing it as just a coincidence in the way Jay looked much like S, similar physique, same height, smoker, surfer type.

One afternoon whilst doing art therapy it dawned on me: Jay & S were friends, they were surfing buddies, they met at the beach and formed a bond over surf boards, waves, dolphins, and the wrong belief that the other had "all his shit together", each wanted to be like the other, in the false perception that the other's life was how theirs ought to be. Jay was the only friend S made after meeting me.

Jay and I were his only friends. I felt angry at knowing I had to share S with Jay, I was envious of their friendship right then and there, a totally irrational feeling. 

I nearly fainted when I realised who Jay was, he was so fragile I couldn't tell him about S, not yet. The pain he was going through and the issues he was sorting out didn't have room for me to tell him: his friend, my darling, had killed himself eleven months ago.

Seeing a grown man cry in pain and despair, is heart breaking, with the uncanny similarity between S&J I was immediately thrown back to those times when I tried holding S tight and telling him things would be OK (even if only for a short time). I decided to hide in my room to avoid the pain of seeing him, I needed to give my heart a break and my brain some respite, I desperately wanted to hug Jay, to comfort him and cover him with kisses because my brain thought it would be like hugging S, it would atone some of the guilt I feel because I didn't die, naturally that was insane and I didn't. 

Jay has a family, I was not about to jeopardise his life and chance at future happiness for a fleeting moment of utter selfishness by doing something so unconscionable and probably unwelcome. 

I discussed my distress with Dr P and he agreed I was doing good by puting strong boundaries and keeping to myself.

Two days before is was discharged Jay realised that my S was his friend, he told me how they met and how he was having terrible troubles with paralysing anxiety and depression at the time and was drinking to excess to numb the pain but was ashamed to talk to S about it as "he seemed so together and healthy", I had to tell Jay that S was going through the same, doing exactly the same and was ashamed to talk to him about his own anxiety and mental health issues for the same stupid reason. 

Once again, I had to tell someone who cared about S how he died, I had to relive the moment I was told S had been found after a week missing, alone, exposed to the elements, I had to relive the fact that I was not allowed to see his body to say good bye, and then, I had to tell the nurses to keep an eye on Jay because he was terribly distressed to think that, if only either of them had dropped the fucking 'manly man' façade maybe, only maybe, they could have helped each other, and according to Jay, maybe S would still be alive. I had to hold my womb, for I was having contractions-like pain when I told him S had made his choice and we must honour and respect him. I could hear myself howling in my head and felt my heart breaking afresh. This is all too sad.

I know Jay and I will never cross paths again, he has my number, but he is too much like S, he will not reach out, and that breaks my heart because I don't want his family going through their own version of my little hell. 

The fucking unrealistic expectations we place upon ourselves took the love of my life, the bullshit 'indicators of success' agreed upon by society are killing young men and women like never before, but the saddest part is that there's so much shame attached to mental illness nobody wants to talk about it.

I have been admitted to a psych ward 25 times, have tried to suicide 8. I'm hanging by the skin of my teeth, don't know for how long or if I will ever get out of this dark and horrible place.

Start

I went back to work today. 

At a new location but for the same charity organisation. I cannot say I liked my new colleagues all that much, all of them are much older and were very patronising towards me and condescending towards our customers, I trully hope it was "just a bad day" and not a true representation of what work is going to be like in the future...

1st question: what's wrong with you? Do you hava a sore leg? (Pointing to my walking stick)

Answer: no sore leg, I - (got interrupted)

Question 2: so you had a stroke and that's why your speech is slurred?

Answer: no, I've haven't had a stroke

Statement 1: it must have been a terrible accident, you poor thing, and so young

Answer: I will go check on the stock out the back

None of those assumptions were correct, I do not like to be "empoverished", I fucking hate to be pitied, if that interaction had been with a six year-old child I could have tried to teach them some manners and would have answered their questions candidly, but for an older than 60, it is shameful. 

I also got asked for a "Fit to Work Certificate" which I think it's not at all right. They've assumed that because I'm young I have to "work for the dole" with them, they couldn't be more wrong! I'm doing it because I believe it is my civil duty and I want to help, however, I will go elsewhere if they keep making me feel unwelcome. 

Firsts

Today is my birthday, the first one after S' death in late August last year.

Two weeks ago it was the day S was born, first time truly sunk in the fact I will never see his beautiful face again.

Yes, I've had a first Christmas without him but I was in hospital & in denial too.

Today is my birthday and I am in hospital, not in denial anymore, I am here because during the last round of tests in Sydney a couple of weeks ago, a little "complex cyst" in my R kidney was found, there's a big chance it is malignant. There's a benign tumour in my L kidney - just to balance things out I guess.

Brain & Spine MRI results ruled out any growths, tumours or mechanical problems, and MS has pretty much been discounted, albeit some changes in the white matter, which may or may not, be attributed to age. One would be forgiven for thinking that it's all good news, right? - well, "Not really" said Professor H (my neurologist), now we are staring at the scary stuff right in the face, more tests were done, no results yet, just a lingering sentence in the air: MND is a diagnosis of exclusion...

The grief of losing Simon plus the new discoveries are taking their toll on me, I can't eat, I have terrible nausea, zero appetite and swallowing has become a task in and of itself. My balance is crap, I've had a couple of falls, the tremor is intense and my brain is forgetting words, I either can't say what I want to say or I jumble up words or I can't understand when people talk to me.

You may think I'm crazy (after all, I am in a psychiatric facility), but Cancer doesn't scare me at all, if I have renal cancer it will be OK, it has a survival rate 80-90%. So no biggie. It most likely will be uncomfortable but meh.

Death doesn't scare me, in fact, I've been wishing to die for the longest time, the only thing that's keeping me here at the moment is securing as much money as I can to set up a trust fund for S' son.

What truly scares me is losing control of my body, being sound of mind but unable to move, I could not bear a life where I cannot feed or dress myself, being trapped in my own body and dying of respiratory failure, not because my lungs are diseased but because the muscles of my rib cage will stop working.

I cannot find a more cruel way to die.

If I'm positive for MND my decision is to die in my own terms & much before I cannot do it unassisted, I don't want anyone to be in trouble because of my determination. My life is my own and I shall decide when and how it ends. I am not one of those most excellent people who fight and continue despite the worse, I am not going to run a marathon, nor start a foundation, I am not going to write a book and be the inspirational-porn poster girl. I am just plain going to die in a dignified way and whomever disagrees with me can go eat shit.

My life, my way, right until the end.

Comings & Goings

It has been such a long interlude between posts. Things have changed and in a way kind of stayed the same. 

I spent two weeks in hospital at the end of Feb, the idea was for me to change meds, my antidepressant was swapped for a different drug, washing out the previous one was horrible, withdrawals are so bad, I was feeling sick beyond the pale, and on top of that, my lovely nervous system decided to start shitting itself, I started having trouble walking, my left leg refuses to move sometimes so, I now have a walking stick. 

I also started Grief Counselling Therapy to help me deal with the enormity of my loss, it is strange to be a widow at my age. I miss my love so very much, I wish I could just wake up and it would be 2 weeks before I left to go to Syd, I wish I'd had made the decision not to go & I would have been there when my darling got his dreams shattered by a fucking bureaucrat. But that is never going to happen and my heart breaks afresh all over again. 

I've been back and forth since March, and about to go again to get more tests, see more doctors, find less alternatives, get more frustrated at myself, why can my condition not be just easy to diagnose? 

The pain is getting steadily worse, the neurologist thinks I am so very interesting, the ophthalmologist says I'm fascinating, the rheumatologist is confused, and the latest discovery is that I have a renal tumour. 

I'm tired, I want to give up, I need to rest. I miss Simon every living minute, I wish I could die and be with him. 

Last week I went to see the place where he died, the Constable who attended the scene drove me there, it was so surreal, I had already been to the exact spot, without knowing, I had found Simon, I found his tree but I didn't know it at the time. It made me feel connected to the place, it's hard to explain the connection we had but I could feel him, that's why I knew he was gone, I could not feel his presence anymore. I offered the tree salt and water, and I thanked the tree for keeping Sim's spirit, He chose a magnificently beautiful spot. The swamp is where his spirit lives and the tree is the guardian of his soul. I felt envy because now nature keeps him. I'm at peace but I'm heartbroken.