As you know, I recently lost a son to suicide. My mind is still confused. I don’t always have control over what I think, and/or how I act. Some days are “good” (with a new meaning to the word to what I’m used to, however), while other days are terrible.
Last week, my family experienced several bad days in a row. It’s like we feed off each other, and hold each other down. Even though, in truth, we are trying to lift each other out of the misery. We are sensitive to each other’s feelings and moods, but it doesn’t always prove to be helpful. This was especially true on Thursday and Friday, the worst days for us for some time.
However, the same is true in reverse too. On Saturday night, I sat quietly by myself, playing the Playstation. It’s something I used to do quite often, but over the past year these times have dwindled down to rarely. As I sat staring at the TV screen, my mind was on the game, but it was also consumed with Barry. You see, Barry was excellent at these games. He finished all the ones we own, several times over. He knew the tricks, he knew the secret locations, and he knew where everything was. He was the person I ran to for help.
Time and time again, I would go up to Barry and say, “I’m stuck. What do I have to do to get past this point?”
He would always be happy to tell me.
Then there were the times when I was just not co-ordinated enough to conquer “the boss”. Again, I would run to Barry. “I’ve been trying to get through this scene for three weeks. Can you get me past this monster/boss/puzzle?”
He always could, and did.
On other occasions, when Barry was playing the games, I would just sit with him and watch. Amazed at the things he found out, that I didn’t know about, and about his skill and pace. I’d use that knowledge to increase my own gaming experience.
Like I said, Barry was excellent at Playstation games, and on Saturday night I found myself feeling sad because he is no longer around to run to for help and learn from.
Then Daniel walked in and sat with me and we shared an hour or so of special time together. Just having Daniel present cheered me up. But when we started to pass the joystick back and forth on a silly game that I put on, we suddenly found ourselves laughing. I don’t mean little giggles, I mean really laughing. We had tears streaming down our faces. We had belly ache. We had so much fun.
It was so good to see Daniel really laughing. And it felt good to laugh too.
As nothing in life is permanent, and we really don’t know what will happen in the future, we have to make memories now. Today. We have to share experiences with each other and give the people we love something to remember. This is important for all of us.
I realised this on Saturday night. Daniel and I shared something that was simple, free, but very special. I intend to make sure we continue to share special moments in the future. A new game I bought a week or so ago, called Obscure, allows a second person to have control of a second person in the storyline. There are five people in total that can be used in this way (that I’m aware of) and I want this game to be a special memory for me and Daniel. I want us to work through this game, to the very end, together. As long as we keep those other people alive, we will be able to do this.
I doubt Daniel will be against the idea. 🙂