Grief

My arms are heavy and tired. My hands are shaking. My chest is tight and empty; my heart doesn’t hurt because it’s not really there. Numb, fuzzy, in shock. I somehow made it to my car service appointment; listening to sports radio made me think of Molly – who am I going to discuss the latest Dan Patrick Show with? Who else appreciated that fact that I had a bizarre relationship with an ESPN radio host that lasted an odd four years?

No one.

I wait for my oil change by doing work. All done, and I get back into my car. I hate the fact that I have no floor mats, but I don’t have the strength to buy any. I go home, check email, review a document and collapse on the couch. My body is too heavy to move, so I stare at the ceiling. I want to have an Oscar party. It’s sunny so I think I should go outside, but I’m shivering. I thank the sky for being a beautiful blue today.

Molly and gang

I let social media know about our collective loss of an amazing person. I cringe when I figure out this is the way some people learn of her death. I obsessively read all the comments on my wall, her wall, and the walls of her husband, sister, and other friends. I don’t know most of these people, despite our 25-year friendship. She is a part of so many.

I want all my friends in my living room right now, and I never want to see anyone again. I want our group to get back together. We need to be together. Maybe even in a dilapidated house, all crammed together, living aimlessly like we did long ago. I think about the daring time Molly and I cleaned out the refrigerator, finding more than our share of liquid, fetid lemons (I think they were lemons). We also found some expired Fluff in the pantry from several tenants prior. She always got super annoyed when the other six of us at the house failed to buy toilet paper or ate her cheese. She did a good job keeping us in line, pretty much an impossible task.

Somehow there has to be a way for us to sing again. In the car, with the windows down, I want to sing Motown hits or Crowded House. We harmonized pretty well. As I typed this, there was a knock on my door. My passport has been returned to me, a new Chinese visa in place. I won’t get to compare notes with her on our visits. She isn’t here to help shape my trip. Or any other trip I will take again. I can’t believe we never left the country together, although our trip to Tennessee, Alabama, and Kentucky seemed pretty foreign at times. I’m grateful that she decided to spring for the convertible when we went to Hawaii together; I’m too much of a cheapskate to splurge on those details that are worth it.

I’m angry, but too tired to express it. Since I had to stand to answer the door, I let momentum carry me to put in a load of laundry. I have no idea how I will muster the energy to put it in the dryer. It’s so far away.

Molly

Tonight I will work on her obituary. I’ve never written one before. Though I’ve experienced loss before, this is the first time I’ve been called upon to formally articulate what it means to lose someone, to break the news to people that a loved one no longer walks this earth, to document a life that is nothing short of amazing. A life full of risk, stability, fun, dependability, strength, and talent.

I miss you already, Molly McKenna. You are a part of me.

10 Cent Wings, by Jonatha Brooke (one of the many artists Molly introduced me to)

If I knew what I was after
I’d remember where I’d been
If I was sure of something better
I’d go, I’d go

But I am just another picture
And I watch myself like you
I imagine what you’re thinking
I know, I know

Ten cent wings, I’ll take two
Pin them to my sweater and I’ll sail above the blue
Ten cent wings, tried and true
Orbiting like satellites I’ll sail away with you, you

I will love across the borders
I will wait until it’s dark
And I will fly and you’ll be with me
My wings, your heart

Then our memory may fail us
And our language will go too
But the shooting stars will catch our
Celestial view

Ten cent wings, I’ll take two
Pin them to my sweater and I’ll sail above the blue
Ten cent wings, tried and true
Orbiting like satellites I’ll sail away with you, you

But I’ll never tell, I’ll never say
I’ll never be that brave

Ten cent wings, I’ll take two
Pin them to my sweater and I’ll sail above the blue
Ten cent wings, tried and true
Orbiting like satellites I’ll sail away with you

Ten cent wings, I’ll take two
Pin them to my sweater and I’ll sail above the blue
Ten cent wings, tried and true
In another life you are with me, and I’m with you

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Grief

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s