writing

I don't write enough.  I should write more.

Writing, at times, can be like throwing words, bouncing words, off the walls of my world.  It can help get it out. It can help work it out.

This evening I watched a DVD.  Man on fire, the 2004 Denzil Washington film (not the 1987 version that nobody has seen).  I found it amongst my fathers stuff yesterday.  My partners younger brother had recommended it to me ages ago and I've been looking for it for a while but I only just noticed it amongst my dads stuff last night.  It's exactly the sort of film my dad liked. Rough justice, guns and a bit of Spanish.  He loved that sort of stuff.

It's been about a year since my dad died.  I do miss him.  My mum misses him a lot.  Life continues but we'd rather he was about.  His illness was difficult and he was fed up with it. He didn't like being dependent and he didn't like the care he received in the hospital.  I understand why.  It was not very good a lot of the time.  Stuff was often done in a half-arsed manner.

Easter approaches but sadly we won't see any resurrections.  We will have our memories which aren't quite as good. Memories are still valuable.