A Thought
20110921 @ Wednesday, September 21, 2011
And what if you knew each time you left them, that this could very well be the last time? Every parting could be the last. "What if today is the day we get ripped apart?" How do you cope, having this sickening fear that today is your last day together, what if they die while you're out? You would stop wasting your time fighting. Anger would spark up, and then quickly dissipate with a sadness and a fear to drown it out. Oh god, that raging sea of fear.
You overcome that fear with desire. Every moment means so much more. Everything counts. That last look, that trailing of fingertips across the skin. The way they set down their tea cup. Hearing the sound of their footsteps echoing down a hallway. You pretend that you have all the time in the world, while being painfully aware that you don't. Curling up on the couch together means more than going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. Commit every sound/smell/feeling to memory. Keep it forever. Hold them with all your heart for as long as you can. Don't miss a second.
I'm Still Alive but Barely Breathing
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
“My universe will never same,
I’m glad you came”
The Lark Ascending wasn’t such an illogical piece to be played at
his funeral. It was one of his favorites.
I didn’t want it to be played. I could not bear the thought of
losing all those mental pictures of him and all those memories and remembering The
Lark Ascending only as music from his funeral. There was a part of the piece,
the first part. It was a heartbreaking beautiful solo; it was the musical
ascent of the lark, haunted and lonely, before the verdant tones of the other
instruments joined in. Even more than losing the imagery of graceful dancers, I
couldn’t bear to have him leave in the company of that violin.
Victor chose to use The Lark Ascending, and as I feared, he chose
the violin solo. The man who played it, I had never met before. He stood in
front of all of us and coaxed the music from the violin very slowly, his eyes
closed. He was tall and muscular and looked foreign to me. With a lover’s touch
he drew the notes from the instrument; the thin sound became achingly sad. I
expected to cry then. Rynn, Alexis, Den, Mel and the rest of them were crying.
But I sat, separate and dry eyed and desperately lonesome for him. He left me
here and went away.
He tended to be very vocal about a few
things, and it made you believe he was saying a lot, which I suspect was what
he wanted. But in fact, I think most of his thoughts, he kept to himself.
The worst part for me
was discovering the casket was open. No one told me it would be, and I was
repulsed by the sight of it. Why would people want to look at him when he was
dead? Besides, it didn’t even look like him. It looked like one of those
figures in a wax museum, exceptionally life-like, but sterile and inanimate,
nonetheless. His love kissed him on the lips and placed a rose beside him. I
didn’t touch him.
When we returned to the
studio, I got out of the car, went into the studio, straight through it and out
the back door into the small yard. I walked to the other end of the backyard,
to the fence beside the lilac bushes that marked the end of the property. I had
no reason in mind for going there other than to escape the others. I wanted to
be alone. There weren’t many places around the studio to do so. I was still
dressed up, teetering uncertainly in a new suit.
There wasn’t much to
look at from where I was standing, just the chain-link fence, the alley and the
father studios on the other side. Distantly, between the father studios I could
see the plains encroaching, their emptiness never quite arrested, even in the
city. Easing out of my sneakers, I stood barefooted and felt the damp coolness
of grass on the soles of my feet. The air was heady with the smell of lilac and
a slight scent of cologne. Time passed and I remained fingering the chain-link
fence.
“Micky, aren’t you coming in?” It was Rynn.
I shook my head.
“I know how hard it must be for you”
“Please, just leave me alone”
I could hear him standing there, although he was doing no more
than standing. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“It’s no one’s fault, what happened” he said breaking the silence.
I did not answer.
“It’s easy to want to blame someone, something or yourself when a
truly terrible thing happens. That’s natural. But you shouldn’t do it. This is
devastating for you and also for all of us. Don’t make it worse for yourself.
Absently, I ran my hand back and forth along the cool metal in the
fence.
“I know you cared for
him dearly. We all did. You most of all. I know he had a difficult past, and
that made him a rather more complicated person.”
“I don’t need you to tell me about him, Rynn. I know all about
him. I don’t need you to tell me”
“Someone needs to, Micky” he said reaching out to touch my
shoulder. I jerked away.
“This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to see you blame yourself for
it, because you weren’t responsible for any of it. If you are to be blamed,
it’s for loving someone a little more imperfect than the rest of us.”
-
I shut myself in my room. After changing my clothes, I took out
the book I had been reading, curled up on my bed and opened it. It was a great
book. It must have been, because I found it so engrossing.
Den came to my door to
say that dinner was ready. I told him I didn’t want any, and that I wasn’t
coming down. Sometime, late night Den came up again. He didn’t bother to knock
this time; he simply let himself in and closed the door behind him. Crossing
the room, he grabbed the chair from my desk, put it alongside the bed and sat
down.
“Somehow,” he said, “I get the feeling you’re awfully upset with
me”.
“Not especially”
I continued to read.
“This is a difficult time for all of us”
Not only was I able to continue but I was able to concentrate on
the gist of the story.
“This has been nearly unbearable”
It was as if he weren’t there.
“This just isn’t the time for you to do this to me, Mi”
“I’m not doing anything” I said and kept reading.
For several seconds he watched me. I could feel him watching me.
Then he leaned over and put his hand across the page of the book. I looked up.
He was only inches away from my face.
“If you really want to know” I said “I do blame it on myself, the
others and you. We could’ve stopped him. If we really wanted to, we could have.
If we did, he wouldn’t be dead right now”
He flinched. Not in his body, but in his eyes. His pupils
contracted the dilated again. He shook his head.
“Den, we could have.”
“No.”
“I could have, Den. I could have, if I really tried”
He looked down.
“I know he was scarred badly, from all the things that happened in
his past. But I could have, we could have helped him get over that. If you love
somebody, sometimes you have to help them through things even though they don’t
want help. Anything would have been better than what happened. I could have
done something.” Slowly tears began to puddle at the corners of my eyes.
“Mi, you couldn’t ever have made him do what he didn’t want to do.
Never. No one could.”
“I could have at least tried!” I said as tears slowly began to
stream down my face.
Silence fell between us.
The guilt slowly killing me with each and
every breathe that I take.