I was going to write something serious about death.

Last week there was a phone call.

An old druggy mates brother was on the line. It was his brothers fifth “deathday” on Sunday. Five years since his brother died.

I only knew his brother through drugs. Although we did some okay stuff besides, it was drugs that provided the glue of our relationship.

I logged into WordPress. Only to get distracted by other things. Like popping bubbles on Facebook games.

And last week another old Wellington drug person went and died. Circumstances, being what they are, really dictated I should write something on death.

But I had daughter for the weekend. She is now addicted to MineCraft. I got no time on the computer at all.

But we did have a great football game or two. And we did go to old mates “deathday” celebrations. She met his son. Him, eight. Her, ten. House on fire.

Even if the mother of my old mates son hates my fucken guts. They blame me. Same reasons I never got invited to friends weddings… The mums, partners, fathers, offspring of my friends all think I am trouble. They think I supply drugs. They think I will get wasted and ride a motorbike on the back wheel into the church and crash through the stain glass windows. They think…. Fucken whatever.

The mother of his boy did a double take when I walked in, put it that way.

Everyone thought my daughter was great. They commented on how well I encouraged and supported her.

All but the mother of my old mates boy. She was too busy sneaking around peering between cracks in the doors making sure no one got the chance to converse quietly with me.

And yet our kids were like a house on fire.

Today I am not writing about death.

Not on your life.

Today my Grandma died. 6am.

In the last week there have been three relatively important instances of death to talk about.

Two thirds of them entirely drug related.

This does not mean 66.6% of people die from drugs.

It just means that 66.6% of the people I know are druggies.

This is your life.




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