Friday, July 8, 2011

One wedding and a funeral.

Yes, I am still alive. Not feeling very good, but alive..

Tomorrow there's gonna be a wedding, and I am going to atend! No matter how much I hurt.. I am going to be there for Trine. I will just stuff myself with painkillers, and do my best. So wish me luck!

Days go by in a blur..nothing is realy fun or good when I am like this.

Sander and Lasse has been up North to get Lasses things and clean out his and Arns apartment.
They brought Arns ashes with them back here. Next week Adrian will come down, and there will be a small funeral-ceremony as Arns ashes will be buried next to his parents.
I think it will be good for Lasse to have a grave to go to.
He had a very rough time cleaning out the apartment. Sander and Adrian helped out, but to go through Arns stuff and sort of move him out of his life....that must have been hellish. I am glad Sander was with him.

And the summer just slips away...it has been lousy so far. Not much sun, but warm and damp. I hate that kind of weather! It makes me feel iritable and sticky all over. I long for sunshine and dry wind...but it is not as I am going anywhere...my body wont allowe anything but laying in the hammock anyway...
I am as usual no fun to be around.

How are your summmer?

Love Ravn

1 comment:

Firethorne said...

I'm glad you're so jazzed about getting to Trine's wedding! I hope it was truly the celebration you wished for them!

We're actually having a rather light summer here - some really beautiful mornings and evenings and only a little hot during the day. Usually in DC we expect it to always be hot and humid (that's the sticky part) from June through September. This is very different from last year which was way too hot.

I feel so badly for Lasse - there is a part of grieving that just has to hurt no matter what. As hard as it is to believe, peace is on the other side, but passing through the pain is unavoidable. He is lucky to have friends supporting him through this struggle. You are all such good guys!

Enjoy that hammock, sweet man.

Love,
Firethorne