Sunday, September 29, 2013

Losing Grip

Photograph of mother and child tamarin by Hans Hillewaert
Suh-suh-suh-SUHNDAY!!!

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.

Moving on.

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?

6 comments:

  1. Their dad was free and easy; I was disciplinarian and tried to hold them accountable.He had little respect for me, and they mirrored that. I was so reluctant to let go, I was grasping too hard, and they chaffed. Instead of seeing them off, I had to leave, myself...and when I asked them if they wanted to come with me, they said no. (which was really painful, but I still had to go.) So it's different. Both of them are SO intelligent, and imaginative about life, and have wild, creative senses of humor. I gave them what I had, and they've turned out pretty well. Life goes on. I like that you're thinking about new creativity--that's great for you!

    I had a weird dream last night (previously saying I rarely remember dreams!) It's already faded, but I liked it. I'm getting ready to go on an excursion by myself, which explains it: I was working at a restaurant (worked there about 15 years ago! ) I was working alone because usually it'd be slow in the morning. I hadn't worked there in a long time, so nothing was where it used to be kept. And people started coming in--lots of people. I had to go and look for coffee--different blends, and it was an old building, full of antique dressers with unmarked drawers I had to go through, looking for what I needed. I got so distracted by the furnishings, and exotic smells; not finding what I needed, I noticed other rooms (great woodwork, wooden doors with the old crystal knobs) and explored even further. More and more people were coming; my boss and her daughters came. They weren't angry with me dawdling so---seemed to understand, even tho they told me a group of 6 (!) had left because they were tired of waiting. They took over taking beverages to waiting guests, and I went back to kitchen and started to cook. Omelets, I think. I forget the rest.
    I know that finding room upon room where you didn't previously know there were rooms means something, as does the search. Isn't it funny that I could smell? Coffees, teas, spices. Heavy old oak tables and dressers.
    The mind. It's wild!

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    1. OMG! I wish I could interpret your dream. That sounds fascinating! Usually forgetting something means a desire to escape from that. Job equaling responsibility. The fact that your boss was cool with it might mean that all roads are clear for a life change. Since that sounds wonderful, let's say THAT'S what it means! That sounds lovely. And it sounds like you really deserve this Mary Jo. Someone with soul-wounding, unrequited love (I like to be overly dramatic) deserves a chance to find and love herself.

      My younger child chose to live with her dad a few months ago. I still see her often, but it was a pretty big blow. I can relate in a small way.

      I love you!

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  2. It sounds like an interesting series. I will check it out

    book publicity

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  3. have you ever listened to Julia Sweeney's stand-up? I heard an old This American Life with her on it yesterday, talking about the experience of having cancer. Her humor is such an awesome mix of tragedy/sad things and hilarious and awkward all in one and it reminded me of your writing, which usually leaves me saying "Awww! Oh no!" while simultaneously laughing outloud. Keep writing lady! I'm excited to hear about your adventures in rock music and emptynesthood (even just the small taste I got of it yesterday was way entertaining :) )

    Also, I have no response to someone who hates arcade fire. Maybe there's something wrong with her hearing?

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