ntang (ntang) wrote,
ntang
ntang

Ah, sleep.

Slept for like 6 hours. Feel better now.

Yesterday after Richard (my brother in law) and I woke up, we went to meet a friend of mine for lunch. She never showed or called, I'm going to call her later and make sure she's ok. She's never not shown up or called before, so I'm a bit worried. Still, this has been a very hard week for everyone and I can't really be too angry at her even if she did skip out on it. Still, a call would've been nice.

So we went back to my office and chatted with one of the developers who was there working on Saturday to make up for missed time during the week, and ordered McDonald's delivery and ate lunch, and then we walked up to Javits.

He was too tired to work so I worked for a little while, then I took him back to my place to rest up. I wanted to work more, but I knew if I stayed and worked he'd either go home to his place or stay and try to help and I figured neither would particularly help. His roommate is a good guy from what he described but one of the multitudes who just doesn't "get it", who doesn't understand the trauma my bro-in-law is going through. He doesn't need to be hassled about telling his stories, he's haunted by them enough without needing to tell them to others. He also doesn't need to be patronized or ooh' and aah'd about, being down at the heap was like going to war, and while I didn't experience that first hand I've seen enough of what happened and talked to enough people and experienced enough that I know to leave well enough alone until he's ready to talk about it.

So anyways... I decided to take him back and hang out with him. He needed the company desperately I think and while I wanted to work more I didn't want to ditch him. He's been there for me when I needed him and I could do no less for him.

We came back, sat at the bar downstairs for a while and sipped our drinks, and then came up and decided to go rent a few movies and get some liquor and spend the night in. We got downstairs and realized the candlelit vigil had started and decided to join in. We couldn't find any candles up here so I thought of going down to the bar and asking for extras - they were cool and gave me two. So we went out and joined in the vigil, and then walked to the local shopping place and got a few movies and 2 bottles of nice port and then ordered a pizza and went back and watched movies, drank port, ate pizza, and spent a lot of time out on the balcony talking about life and memories and our experiences this week.

It was a good thing. It got out a lot of the stress and pain we've both been suffering through, and I feel much more sane now. I think he does, too... he woke up briefly when I snuck into my room (I gave him the bed for the night and took the sleeping bag out into the living room) to get the laptop so I could post and read email and didn't look so haunted. In fact when I told him to go back to sleep he thanked me and did it. He's had nightmares and slept horribly every other night we've been together this week, so I guess our "therapy" session worked. I know I feel better now.

He's going to stay here and watch the kids when they get back, as he's still worn out, but I'm heading back in to the city shortly to work the rest of the day. I'll be back tonight, and maybe will post more about my experiences this week when I do. I know, I know, you're probably all sick of it as it is but writing about it helps, both to clear my mind a bit and also to store my memories so I can look back in a few weeks, months, years, and remember, not just the good but the bad and everything else. This has been a horrible, catastrophic week and I don't want to lose my memories of it. (Makes sense, right? :P For lack of a better way to describe it, this is too important an event to forget, I think it's important that I remember both the bad and the good and everything in between so I don't let its lessons and its pain be forgotten. Put to rest, yes, but forgotten, never.)

I'm really upset about FEMA and the Feds taking over and running the show. They've locked us out of helping down at the heap, and for all of whatever danger there is and whatever else it would mean so much to me to be able to do it. They just don't understand. The risk is worth it. I don't know any better way to put it then that I need to lay the spirits of those people to rest. They were our people, in our home, that were killed, and we need to care for our own dead. We need to be able to bury our own dead, to lay them to rest, to honor them in what few insignificant ways we can. I hate the feds so much for robbing me and the others of that chance. I know it sounds stupid but it would really help me mentally/emotionally/spiritually to have a chance to work at the heap and feel like I had some part in that. I'll live, either way, but it would let me put the spirits that are haunting ME to rest, even if it did leave me with some scars, mental or physical.

I dunno. I'm really upset about that and I'm sure you all think me an idiot for feeling like that. I dunno how to express it. Sigh.

I'm going to get ready and go back in. Once more unto the breach...
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