I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song.

So life goes on.  It’s been a surreal three months - it’s been hard not to think about death a lot. In some ways, my uncle’s passing was easier because he was sick for a long time, he didn’t go in a day like Matthew did. It gave everyone time to accept that this was what was going to happen, and even though he lost so much of himself towards the end, he didn’t seem to be in much suffering, and I am thankful to the universe, biology, chance, whatever for that.  Since his death, every mention of cancer has felt like a thud in my chest. It’s this instant mix of regret and guilt, and I feel so bad thinking about and reimagining what he must have went through, what my aunt must have been going through, what my mum’s went through. I can’t imagine losing my brother, but statistically, he’s much older than me, and I know it’s many many years yet - but it’s like that thought just creepy-crawling in the background ‘your brother’s going to die someday, and your parents someday sooner.’  And I keep thinking about him because... well I got into plants recently, partly because I like being surrounded by living things, and both my mum and my uncle were huge botanists. So of course I think of him a lot, and regret that I didn’t get to share this with him, that we couldn’t of had more little talks after I graduated, when I grew into a happier person - I was so busy and so sad during a lot of uni that I didn’t really get to connect with him as much as I should have, and I just regret that time lost so so much. I keep thinking of him when I go to the park near my flat alone, surrounded by all that green, and I wish I could have said so much more when there was time.  I talk to my parents more because of this, though. I hug my girlfriend a lot and squeeze her so tight and tell her over and over that I love her, because I’m so afraid of death and dying. I keep reading about tragedy, about cancer - but also about progress, about cancer cures, remember that he told me as he was going in for his first operation that it ‘was just biology’ and ‘not to worry’, and. Life goes on.  That’s the main thing, and I know that I shouldn’t be thinking about death so much as a 24 year old, fairly healthy lassie - and my parents are OK, and my brother is OK, and my girlfriend is definetly OK, and if anything this journey can teach me to be more compassionate and more understanding of grief. And I know I can be thankful for the time I did have with my uncle - that if I hadn’t lived with them when I was at Uni I would have barely known him at all.  So. I’ll think of him when I tend to my plants, and I’ll think of him when I’m down the park, and I’ll think of him when I’m bettering myself and learning and thinking about the natural world - because that’s what he loved so, so much, and those thoughts keep around a little positive existence of him, in some little way. It’s as much as I can do.