In Case You Didn't Notice, This Post Has No Title
Following this is the latest "Mother" post. I normally wait days or even weeks between when the "Mother" posts come to me and when I have finished processing them in my mind and putting them out. (There is one other exception, I bet you can find it.) This time I just wrote it out. I haven't even read it myself yet. In truth, I fell asleep at the computer. That half an hour's worth of "sleep" is all that I have had in about 43 hours. I don't plan on going back to it tonight, but when I do, if it has vanished, you will know why.
I have been sitting here listening to my MP3 player in the otherwise quiet house. To give you an idea of my mood, I have been repeating Snake River Conspiracy's "Vulcan" frequently. Four times in a row just now before "A Boy Named Sue" took over just now while I was typing. I didn't search heavily for a link to a demo of "Vulcan" since I figure some of you might follow the link to find out what song I was talking about before reading any disclaimer that it wasn't family friendly.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with this (read: those of you who aren't MC) the primary function of this song in being repeated is that it is a hard rock song sung (screamed) by an angry woman. The word "Fuck" screamed out repeatedly in semi-isolation seems to be doing the trick for me.
I learned at the wake, from my friend's boyfriend's son that she is not doing well at all. Something I knew. The details were appreciated, but don't improve the outlook. The waiting game isn't easy.
I am not sure, if I attempted to, I could explain why this is effecting me so. Partially because the part I understand is complicated. Partially because there are parts that I don't.
I am not new to death, wakes, funerals. As a human, I have had my share of experience with these for people I knew. Having worked at a funeral home, and being a minister I have been to a number for those I didn't. The latter were mostly at the behest of my friend who lays in a coma in the hospital. This may have something to do with it. Numerous times I went to the wakes and funerals of people who she knew, or people of the community to be supportive of her. That is, to some extent what I did today.
While I knew him, and had the one resounding fond memory of him, I was there to the greater extent because she couldn't be. Odd, given the fact that if she dies she will never know, and if she survives, the fact that I was there does her no good.
My MP3 player has been messing with me. Or my subconscious mind has. It now has about 150 songs on it, 4 of which are by Shakira. (Yes, MC, I just admitted that.) These four are there due largely to the fact that the Pagan shop I worked at for a while played one of her CD's on a regular basis, and so the songs are loaded with memories. Many of them involving my friend. Considering they are only 4 out of 150, they have been playing an awful lot last night and today.
There is nothing I could do in regards to my friend. She is in ICU and even if I can get in to see her, at this point she is still unconscious. Other than information on her, there is little I did at the wake. I added to the visible number of people that noted his passing. I stood off to the side, alone while people I didn't know had the comfort of sharing stories with others they knew. A release of sorts. I had nobody to share these with. A status I could have handled better if not for the fact that concern for my friend weighed over these other things to some extent.
I don't get what the big deal is this time. I am not inclined to be emotional in these situations. Even with family members I haven't been. There Shakira goes again, and it is that one song that reminds me of the tables where I sat with the cards, chatting with her or trying to teach her how to read them. I even now have a vivid memory of that table, cards to the side and she and I were eating lunch. I ate a meatball sub and tried not to make a mess outside of the foil it came in, and she ignored her food as she complained about the man whose wake I attended today, and the fact that the woman whom in the earlier post I gave the pseudonym "Erin" told her she needed to drop him. He would only bring trouble. Odd that it was "Erin" who brought us the trouble initially, and once she was out of the way, the relationship between them had a lot less turmoil. Six years later, at his wake I find out from his son that he had wanted to ask her to marry him.
All of that from one song. Back to Snake River Conspiracy so I can finish my thought. I have never had such an issue with loss, or potential loss, as I do right here. In most of the roles I have played, I can't afford it.
I think...I'll tell you what I think, that I have no idea what the statement I was going to make here was. I think it is time for bed. "Don't You Want Me Baby" is on my MP3 player. I think I will smoke my last cigarette listening to that and imagining chocolate chip cookies being snatched out of a convertible (if you haven't seen that commercial I think you have missed out. I laughed so hard, though it is not so funny at the moment.) Then I will finish downloading the latest additions to my music library. (More angry music.) Then I will problem turn "Vulcan" up for one last run before I try and black out.
I am sorry for having inflicted all of the above on any readers that made their way to the end of this. For those who didn't, you will probably have surmised that I would say that is life, or something close to it.
I have been sitting here listening to my MP3 player in the otherwise quiet house. To give you an idea of my mood, I have been repeating Snake River Conspiracy's "Vulcan" frequently. Four times in a row just now before "A Boy Named Sue" took over just now while I was typing. I didn't search heavily for a link to a demo of "Vulcan" since I figure some of you might follow the link to find out what song I was talking about before reading any disclaimer that it wasn't family friendly.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with this (read: those of you who aren't MC) the primary function of this song in being repeated is that it is a hard rock song sung (screamed) by an angry woman. The word "Fuck" screamed out repeatedly in semi-isolation seems to be doing the trick for me.
I learned at the wake, from my friend's boyfriend's son that she is not doing well at all. Something I knew. The details were appreciated, but don't improve the outlook. The waiting game isn't easy.
I am not sure, if I attempted to, I could explain why this is effecting me so. Partially because the part I understand is complicated. Partially because there are parts that I don't.
I am not new to death, wakes, funerals. As a human, I have had my share of experience with these for people I knew. Having worked at a funeral home, and being a minister I have been to a number for those I didn't. The latter were mostly at the behest of my friend who lays in a coma in the hospital. This may have something to do with it. Numerous times I went to the wakes and funerals of people who she knew, or people of the community to be supportive of her. That is, to some extent what I did today.
While I knew him, and had the one resounding fond memory of him, I was there to the greater extent because she couldn't be. Odd, given the fact that if she dies she will never know, and if she survives, the fact that I was there does her no good.
My MP3 player has been messing with me. Or my subconscious mind has. It now has about 150 songs on it, 4 of which are by Shakira. (Yes, MC, I just admitted that.) These four are there due largely to the fact that the Pagan shop I worked at for a while played one of her CD's on a regular basis, and so the songs are loaded with memories. Many of them involving my friend. Considering they are only 4 out of 150, they have been playing an awful lot last night and today.
There is nothing I could do in regards to my friend. She is in ICU and even if I can get in to see her, at this point she is still unconscious. Other than information on her, there is little I did at the wake. I added to the visible number of people that noted his passing. I stood off to the side, alone while people I didn't know had the comfort of sharing stories with others they knew. A release of sorts. I had nobody to share these with. A status I could have handled better if not for the fact that concern for my friend weighed over these other things to some extent.
I don't get what the big deal is this time. I am not inclined to be emotional in these situations. Even with family members I haven't been. There Shakira goes again, and it is that one song that reminds me of the tables where I sat with the cards, chatting with her or trying to teach her how to read them. I even now have a vivid memory of that table, cards to the side and she and I were eating lunch. I ate a meatball sub and tried not to make a mess outside of the foil it came in, and she ignored her food as she complained about the man whose wake I attended today, and the fact that the woman whom in the earlier post I gave the pseudonym "Erin" told her she needed to drop him. He would only bring trouble. Odd that it was "Erin" who brought us the trouble initially, and once she was out of the way, the relationship between them had a lot less turmoil. Six years later, at his wake I find out from his son that he had wanted to ask her to marry him.
All of that from one song. Back to Snake River Conspiracy so I can finish my thought. I have never had such an issue with loss, or potential loss, as I do right here. In most of the roles I have played, I can't afford it.
I think...I'll tell you what I think, that I have no idea what the statement I was going to make here was. I think it is time for bed. "Don't You Want Me Baby" is on my MP3 player. I think I will smoke my last cigarette listening to that and imagining chocolate chip cookies being snatched out of a convertible (if you haven't seen that commercial I think you have missed out. I laughed so hard, though it is not so funny at the moment.) Then I will finish downloading the latest additions to my music library. (More angry music.) Then I will problem turn "Vulcan" up for one last run before I try and black out.
I am sorry for having inflicted all of the above on any readers that made their way to the end of this. For those who didn't, you will probably have surmised that I would say that is life, or something close to it.
posted by Wanderer at 4:33 AM
2 Comments:
Glad I could help, in some minimal way. I didn't call you partially because of how busy I am and partially because I have no idea what I'd tell you. Those two meant nothing to me, and I openly harbored malice for at least one of them, so I didn't want to risk setting things off by engaging in conversation.
A small point, but one that I hang onto with force. (This is not aggressive or combative comment on my part, but a potential clarification.) It may be semantics, and it may be my mind reaching for meanings not intended, but I just want to point out that barring some new development I have yet failed to hear about, she is still alive. The prognosis isn't great, but she isn't gone yet.
As to your issue with him, I don't think anything would be set off in that. I understand all of the issues surrounding that incident, and in regards to that, have always sided with you on it.
I am thankful for your gift of that song, as it shortly thereafter found its use on an emotional level.
I wish I had been able to straighten out babysitting for the morning so I could join you tomorrow. We'll have to get together sometime soon.
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