“It’s been a year and now I fear the fade is on,” and yes that is a line I am borrowing from Megafaun. For over an hour and a half today I strummed away as my fingers memorizing their positions on the strings, and the cellular memory stuck. As I sang the words of this song , they brought out the hurt that’s still holed up inside me. The welled up tears now meandering down my cheek, stopping to rest at each unshaven hair follicle, zigzagged along side my mouth. I was so in the zone that my concentration led to me getting down those lyrics and cords to my liking and in doing so I failed to realize the sting in each fingertip of my left hand. Oh C#, gotta love ya. While not quite bleeding, these fingers are raw and they’ve endured a pain rather unfamiliar. Even my left leg joined in the game and went numb to the point that I couldn’t perform a basic hominid function, walking, without using momentum and something to hold onto. I laughed at my current predicament and how the position of my guitar obviously helped in shutting down my leg’s circulation. I felt as though a flashback of my hernia surgery recovery played out in real life, but that’s another story.
Over eight months ago I lost a good friend and co-worker, Briana. She had cancer, after going through the routine surgery and chemo she seemed to be bouncing around the office as ever before with her smile, laughter and passionate conversations. We spoke of how fascinated her son was with science of all kinds, from dinosaurs to electrons, and how his geekiness was eerily similar to me, which she and I both confessed. He had turned 11 the week before she past onto the next world where there are other plans she has to attend to now.
“It’s the slowly turning down of the well acquainted sound of your old voice,” and I cannot stop with these lyrics, for they fit so well, not like a mold or a glove, rather they grew out of one person’s feelings and thoughts in their mind, were echoed in some kitchen or bedroom, then spilt onto paper and then were changed and adjusted during a brainstorming workshop, or however it is that musicians do it… coffee and/or alcohol are possibilities, as are sincere love and heartache for a fellow friend, family member or cause.
Happy Up Here by Röyksopp played in my mind long before I turned on the computer, opened iTunes and clicked on the play button that gave me a ticket to a world I needed. To dance and release tension. Nearly a fortnight ago my friend, Tara, invited me to a Bollywood Aerobics class. Given the clear to go ahead after eight weeks of limited physical activity, because of my recovery, as previously stated, to participate in a full fledged workout finally by Dr. M F, I never thought of saying no when asked to meet up to learn a few new moves. Well, you can see where this goes…
What took me down this path? I love to dance and sing and so did Briana; once upon a time we belted out a duet from Grease with all the classic moves on a staff appreciation karaoke night. We kept that party going, her son sang and acted out a very convincing performance once done by MJ to Billie Jean, leading me to believe that he had a wee bit of practice. Ah-ha! I knew he didn’t stuff his nose in a book all day long. My last song that night was Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, by Otis Redding, done so in my favorite way, a capella. Oddly, it was not on the play list, so that was technically my only choice. And, an easy one to make.
Loss, sits beside me. I feel a warm metallic object and glance down to see my pinky ring. How can one forget something that too came from love. Ore was mined, then refined to an ingot, which was later separated by children, under adult supervision, at a camp my friend helps run, and fashioned into a shape they desired. Three silver pieces were finished and my friend was the recipient of them. She in turn gave two away as gifts, to me and the other to a mutual friend. Our triangular bond now strengthened by the addition of a circle seemed so certain. Oh how feelings that turn into thoughts and manifest as actions change who we are byway of their consequences in the universe. What did I go into, stumbling on my words, unsure of myself and where I was going? I latched onto what I thought was real, and it was at that moment. Relationships change and conveniently facebook shields you from knowing that briefly until you attempt to check some one’s status update. At least settings don’t scream to the web how you are or are not dating this person or talking to that person, as long as you set them that way.
In the same span of eight months, there have been two very special people to me, in addition to those mentioned above, that I now have a vastly different relationships with. We lived what we lived, shared what we shared and still have those memories. The sadness and pain is subsiding. Residual residue of feelings cling to me from time to time. I acknowledge this, instead of denying where I am at the moment. Slowly, this trickles down, as my tears have, and the experience is good.
