If you've ever lost someone, you understand
Nearly a decade ago, when my best friend, Nik, committed suicide, I turned off my mind. I can still remember that night clearly. Afterwards, I was a statue... my face just a mask of stoicism and impassiveness. I denied the emotions that swirled with tumultuous furor behind the facade, and for a time, I was able to forget that they were there. For several weeks, I was able to live my life as if it hadn't happened. I was able to pretend that things were normal.
Almost a month after I went to his funeral, I was driving down a lonesome Kansas highway. I don't know where I was driving to, and I don't think I really cared at the time. As I was driving, Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Freebird" came on the radio.
I broke down. I don't remember the next half hour, but I found that I had pulled off the road, and I was still sobbing uncontrollably into the steering wheel. I'd heard that song a hundred times before and it had simply been a song. That time it was different.
Tonight, I repeated part of that performance. I got the phone call I knew was coming this afternoon. When my phone rang, and I saw the number on the ID, I waited for almost a dozen rings before I picked it up. I knew what it was, but I was so terrified of the certainty. Without hearing the news, maybe I could live with the world as if it had never happened.
After I heard the news, I went about my business. I read an assignment for class tomorrow. I cleaned my microwave. I was in the middle of dusting some furniture while my computer played me some music, when the world knocked down my facade of normalcy.
The song was Jonathan Coulton's "When you go."
"Only a moment ago we had nothing but time.
Everything lasted forever, and you were all mine.
Only a dream, I know.
Thinking you'd never go.
Tearing off pieces of myself, just for the time it buys me.
"There in the frame of your face, the cast of your eyes...
I saw this coming, but still I am caught by surprise.
All of this time I knew
That I'd be losing you.
That doesn't mean that it's okay.
That doesn't mean I'm ready."
...
Almost a month after I went to his funeral, I was driving down a lonesome Kansas highway. I don't know where I was driving to, and I don't think I really cared at the time. As I was driving, Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Freebird" came on the radio.
I broke down. I don't remember the next half hour, but I found that I had pulled off the road, and I was still sobbing uncontrollably into the steering wheel. I'd heard that song a hundred times before and it had simply been a song. That time it was different.
Tonight, I repeated part of that performance. I got the phone call I knew was coming this afternoon. When my phone rang, and I saw the number on the ID, I waited for almost a dozen rings before I picked it up. I knew what it was, but I was so terrified of the certainty. Without hearing the news, maybe I could live with the world as if it had never happened.
After I heard the news, I went about my business. I read an assignment for class tomorrow. I cleaned my microwave. I was in the middle of dusting some furniture while my computer played me some music, when the world knocked down my facade of normalcy.
The song was Jonathan Coulton's "When you go."
"Only a moment ago we had nothing but time.
Everything lasted forever, and you were all mine.
Only a dream, I know.
Thinking you'd never go.
Tearing off pieces of myself, just for the time it buys me.
"There in the frame of your face, the cast of your eyes...
I saw this coming, but still I am caught by surprise.
All of this time I knew
That I'd be losing you.
That doesn't mean that it's okay.
That doesn't mean I'm ready."
...
posted by The Academian | 9:07 PM
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