|Photograph of mother and child tamarin by Hans Hillewaert|
Havin' some beers and mentally preparing for the week ahead. This is the week that I lose grip of one of the most solid things that I've had throughout my adult life. Every time I'm alone I cry. It's selfish of me to be so needy. I know this. I just can't help it. My mom said to me on the phone today,
"Now you know how I felt."
I love her, and I don't want to diminish what she went through, but I don't think it's the same. We were not close during my teen years. This was my doing. I was an asshole. It was the 80's. "No one understood me!" I didn't hang out with my parents. We did not share interests.
My oldest and I have a unique bond. There are so many intricacies that are tied up in our relationship. I don't think there is anyone that could say,
"I know how you feel."
"The big day" is Tuesday. I drop him off at college. At Antioch. It's an all-day affair, the drop-off day. I think there might even be a segment for "grieving parents" or some such thing. I am bringing a camera. I want to take pictures of other parents grieving. It needs to be more real. More raw. I want more evidence. Then I want to file it. I want to move on. And I want to grow accustomed to letting go.
I've been thinking about art in relation to my children. Neither of them think that they have intrinsic talent. I disagree. Everything that they do is art. They have so much talent that it is some day going to burst their skins. They'll need to reconcile what they do casually as true art. They live and breathe it. Both of them. In very different, but very apparent ways. In ways that I for sure did not exhibit at such a young age. So much potential. I pray that there is a magical funnel for them. A magical wizard who will help them along their paths.
But seriously, moving on.
I am trying to think of this kinda/sorta death as an opportunity. I used to love making music when I was younger. I wasn't much older than my oldest child when I learned how to play. My tiny amp and guitar have been dusted off and are propped up next to my bed. I don't plan anything other than to touch them. To maybe write a song.
I'd very much like it if my first song could be to my children. A song of hope, with a dark reality that their hopes and dreams are waiting on the other side of a thick fog... Or maybe Mordor. But that they have access to the one ring that will make it all o.k.
This quickly turned pretty nerdy.
"This was a pretty heavy blog post, Sharon. You owe us a little levity."
O.k., here's a funny story...
You know how I am all ate up about Arcade Fire? It's true. They are one of my favorite bands. I posted the Reflektor video on Facebook because I wanted people to know that I liked that video because of reasons I thought were very cool - namely the paper mache heads and it being directed by Anton Corbijn, the dude who made the Control movie. That's what people do on Facebook. They try to make people know "who they are" by telling them what they ate, where they spent time, or what video they watched. I really liked the video. My SISTER totally Facebook dissed it. Like within minutes of the posting. And that SHOULD be fine. She's entitled to her opinion. Except that she ALSO dissed Arcade Fire in ANOTHER post of ANOTHER video that I posted about a year ago. WEIRD. Like the woman REALLY hates Arcade Fire. I sort of don't understand. They are a pretty easy band to like. What does my sister have against Arcade Fire? Does she hate Canada? Does she hate bands that have a ton of people in them? Does she just have questionable taste? We used to like a lot of the same bands. What happened?
Bottom line. The world is pretty fucked up. Then we go to college. We post of Facebook. We work. Then we die.
But it’s just a Reflektor.
Will I see you on the other side?