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flamingswordSo the little white Fiat 500 is named Cupcake, because it is cute and bite sized. My insurance is going to be twice what it was, now, so I won't be able to help pay it off as much as I was hoping for, but Ghost is remarkably himself about it and doesn't care or really seem to notice. He has money to pay for Dark Souls 3 and VR headsets and if his meager vices are taken care of then anything else we have money for is cool with him. Which is such an enlightened attitude that I confess myself baffled, gentlebeings.
I've never come at money from a position of always having had enough of it, so I have no idea what his attitude is like or where it comes from, other than the obvious effects of seeing it from outside. It's inner workings are a black box. Does having grown up with rich parents make people rational about money? Somehow I don't think so. I have known trust fund kids who have no sense of any kind, so Ghost's particular rationality is wholly peculiar unto himself.
Now that I've been back from Aunt Anna's funeral for a few days, I am having thinky thoughts. Well, don't I always, after someone dies? Don't most of us? If noting else, few things are worth really jumping into the depths of yourself and seeing what's down there like grief. We could turn to others for our answers when we grieve, I suppose, but people tend to say awful things about Plans and Just Their Time such. Other people are unreliable. We have to build our answers out of things inside us that can't be taken away from us, and if the death of one loved one has just proved anything it's that others can be taken from us, too.
I wasn't that close to Anna, and I'm not regretting that, exactly. But I mourn as much for Uncle Tex who is alone now in that big empty house, as I do for the gracious socialite who did the actual dying, and that's a first. I hope he sells the house and moves away to be near his grandchildren, his closest living relatives. I hope he goes to live near his friend on that golf course, or near his other friend and buys a house boat, something to do with his years that keeps him engaged with people who care about him as a person. Anna would want that. My grandmother rattled around her house for a few years until she got brain tumors and didn't tell anyone she had a headache that never went away for six months. I want better than that for him; for everyone, really.
And as much as I want these things for him, there's not really anything I can say to him about it. I am not in a position in his life to be listened to, and I don't have the spoons to change my position in his life. I don't have the energy to be a proper friend to the people already in my life. And THAT I do regret.
I've never come at money from a position of always having had enough of it, so I have no idea what his attitude is like or where it comes from, other than the obvious effects of seeing it from outside. It's inner workings are a black box. Does having grown up with rich parents make people rational about money? Somehow I don't think so. I have known trust fund kids who have no sense of any kind, so Ghost's particular rationality is wholly peculiar unto himself.
Now that I've been back from Aunt Anna's funeral for a few days, I am having thinky thoughts. Well, don't I always, after someone dies? Don't most of us? If noting else, few things are worth really jumping into the depths of yourself and seeing what's down there like grief. We could turn to others for our answers when we grieve, I suppose, but people tend to say awful things about Plans and Just Their Time such. Other people are unreliable. We have to build our answers out of things inside us that can't be taken away from us, and if the death of one loved one has just proved anything it's that others can be taken from us, too.
I wasn't that close to Anna, and I'm not regretting that, exactly. But I mourn as much for Uncle Tex who is alone now in that big empty house, as I do for the gracious socialite who did the actual dying, and that's a first. I hope he sells the house and moves away to be near his grandchildren, his closest living relatives. I hope he goes to live near his friend on that golf course, or near his other friend and buys a house boat, something to do with his years that keeps him engaged with people who care about him as a person. Anna would want that. My grandmother rattled around her house for a few years until she got brain tumors and didn't tell anyone she had a headache that never went away for six months. I want better than that for him; for everyone, really.
And as much as I want these things for him, there's not really anything I can say to him about it. I am not in a position in his life to be listened to, and I don't have the spoons to change my position in his life. I don't have the energy to be a proper friend to the people already in my life. And THAT I do regret.