I think that my friend leaving this world on May day (2 years ago) is poignantly fitting. "Mayday" is the call of distress from a ship or a plane...it comes from the French "m'aidez," or "help me". When repeated three times on a radio frequency, "Mayday" signifies grave and imminent danger.
May day indeed.
I think my grief in someways for this loss has intensified since becoming a mother. This is in part because I have grown so close to Dustin's father over the past 11 years. Even after a scant 16 months with my child I don't want to think about being without her here on earth.
28 years must have felt just like a blink. There cannot be time long enough when it comes to the life of your child.
As for me there are "things I remember and things I forget, I miss you, I guess that I should." (Raining in Baltimore).
What I remember so vividly...
what your voice sounded like -- the cadence of it. especially the way you told me to "chill babe"
how you did things in order to push my buttons-- like insisting the scene in American Beauty that made it Oscar-worthy was the video of that stupid plastic bag that the emo boyfriend videotaped. Now that you're gone every time I see a plastic bag fly by I think of you. I notice them when I need to see them most. I ate lunch with your dad and friends today and behind us on our walk to our car flew a grey plastic bag.
your hair-brained schemes
your love of music, there are some artists and songs that make me think only of you because we played them in your car together, and then I played them for you in your hospital room (The Smashing Pumpkins Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness double album--especially Spaceboy, Better than Ezra-- this time of year, Dave Matthews Band---Live at Red Rocks album, Under the Table and Dreaming album, and their song Crush, Counting Crows -- Sullivan Street it makes me think of all the times I left your house on Simmons street late at night to go home, and of course Rufus Wainwright's version of Hallejuah breaks my heart.)
how you made me feel important when you spoke to me (you apparently did this for TONS of people--that's pretty amazing)
blueberry muffins---it was a piece of your memory you got back, something I was sure was insignificant and you would have forgotten it anyway... It was from the last time you had come to see me in Manhattan about a month before your car accident. We went out for coffee at breakfast and I wanted you to try one of the muffins, they were wonderful but they were out that day.but one of the times I saw you later on, after we were not together you told me "you were mad they were out of blueberry muffins." It absolutely slayed me. Cut me to the quick.
how you hated celery-- you told me that if you looked at it you'd throw up you made it seem more like a phobia than a taste. the thought of this cracked me up and I always planned to have a bag of celery in my fridge when you would go poking through it, but I never did it.
how you bought cards for occassions other than what was happening. I have 3 of such cards from you-- one of them says "Congratulations on your baby boy!" (it was for a "break a leg") Happy Birthday (just because in September) and one about the loss of a pet (when you were leaving for the week back to Emporia).
you were basically wonderful.
title from Sullivan Street by the Counting Crows