Atomictumor

She and I saw you a few times, about 10 years ago.

She was a big fan of yours, and I always sorta saw a bit of her in you, what with the long curly hair (kids and age straightened it out some, but the impression was always there).  I have to admit, me, being a punk rocker at the time, wasn’t as into your music, but I was very into her, and I sucked up my oi oi oi attitude and went to a couple of your shows in Knoxville, back in 96.

She could play some of your music on the piano, and sang in your key pretty well.  She loved your music, but we stopped listening to you for reasons I don’t really know, in the year or two after Boys for Pele came out.  We had a kid, and you took a break, and we just never really met up.  We got caught up on a big classic rock thing for a while, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin and Bowie and whatnot, and passed you by when you started recording again.

Still, she’d listen, every once in a while, to Little Earthquakes or Under the Pink, and sing along.  When it’d come up on the CD shuffle and she wasn’t there, it always brought her to my mind.

After she got sick and left my life, almost a year ago today, I’d hear your music and cry.  I’d see that dark, curly hair in my fingers, or at my chest (she was pretty short), and it’d bring her back to me in ways that pictures, or memories, just can’t do.  She’s still all mixed up with you, Tori, and thats a crazy thing.

I can hear her sing along, if Yes Anastasia comes on the radio or shuffle.  It was unbearable at first, and I’d skip it.  Afterwards, I’d struggle through the song, thinking that if I could finish listening to it, I’d be cleansed, or healed, or reconciled.  Maybe I was, and maybe I wasn’t, I don’t really know.  These days, and for the last few months, I listen to it, and she’s there, but like with all other aspects of my life, she’s fuzzy.  She’s a memory thats more and more distant, the same part of me that, say, my 24th year, or 1996.

Its a beautiful thing, and a thing that made me what I am today, but something that doesn’t pertain to who I am or what I am anymore.

That was a hard realization to make, let me tell you.  By admitting that, in a certain point of view, it could be construed as insensitive, or callous.  It could mean that I’m turning my back on it, that I’m denying all the sweet things I ever said to her, and all the love that I professed for her.  It could mean that I’m giving her the finger, way up in heaven.

I know thats not the case, and you know thats not the case, tho.  I think you knew it all along, and it just took me a lot of time to get there, sorta like getting into a cold swimming pool.

It could be said that I’m releasing her.  That’d be nice too, and that might be closer to the case, but I’m not sure if thats the whole thing.  I still get comfort in her.  I still relish those memories, and if I were releasing her, I’d think I’d be letting that stuff go.  Those were the best years of my life so far, and I want to keep them for all my days.

If I’m releasing anything, its the pain.  The sadness, the guilt (yep, theres guilt.  I couldn’t explain it to you, its as irrational as the day is long, but its there), the trauma.  I’m letting go of the way of life I’ve had over the past year.

I got the idea of writing this letter to you, Tori, when I was driving my girlfriends truck back and forth between my house and hers, hauling lumber and heavy stuff.  I’ve been kinda saying “bye” to that old place, and thats a nice thing.  We put together the kids bunk bed at the lady’s house, and they slept there last night.  They loved it!

I’m digressing, sorry.

Point is, I had the kids and the girlfriend back at her house, and came back to mine for one more load of stuff, when one of your new songs came on.  I hadn’t heard this one, or at least I didn’t think I had, and it was nice.

It was like the little curly headed girl who I gave those years to, saying hello.  Telling me that she’s fine, she’s having fun and doing her thing, and that she’s tickled to see me doing mine. That she can’t wait to watch my new life unfold, wrapped around another lady just like it was wrapped around hers.  That she’s thrilled that her little family is thriving, and that somebody else is good enough to take her place.

That was neat, Tori.  I don’t know if you intended it that way, but it was a thrill.  So that night, as my new old family sat at the time-out, and I watched the woman who’s stepping so gracefully and beautifully into the curly headed girls role chat with my son (the one who was born when you took that break, near 10 years ago), I thought of you.

Thanks.  I hope everythings working out well for you!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 31st, 2007 at 1:14 pm and is filed under Love, Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.