May be too intense for some viewers.

Rob and I just got back from my "Aunt" Martha's funeral. Martha was one of my mom's best friends for the last 30 years and was part of our extended family. She loved me practically like one of her own. I knew that already but having so many people I barely knew tell me that today really brought it home. It was both touching and crushing. Martha was one of the the least judgmental people you could hope to meet. Her home and hearth were always open to take in strays and those down on their luck, or simply to feed you because that's what she loved to do, which was lucky for you because she was a great cook. My mom said on the way out of the funeral home that Martha was one of the few people who knew everything about her but still loved her. Martha supported and welcomed Rob and I when we were partners even when my own mother and her new husband couldn't manage to. She took care of her husband as he slowly died over the span of 10 years a good while back, but she was gone within a week of falling ill. Since there was really no one in a space to take care of her, and no money either, this is probably a mercy.

I'm sad for her being gone, and for myself of course, but doubly so for my mom. Her, Martha, and their other best friend Martha (yes there is probably a Newhart joke in there somewhere) were a very tight knit trio over the years having worked together for several and having shared many meals, laughs, and tears. In recent years they had all taken to a weekly lunch at their favorite Mexican place and often I would drive up to join them - partly to see mom of course, but also to enjoy the dynamic of their enduring friendship. I have always been very drawn to triads - I suppose from being an only child. I know how close knit they can become, and sadly how fragile they are. It only takes the loss of one to change the gestalt forever. Mom has also lost a dear cousin within the last year and of course any funeral (especially one in our home town full of familiar faces) makes her think of Daddy's passing. Plus I'm a super Momma's boy so if she's sad, I'm sad.

Its just a super emotional time. Rob and Shayne are officially living in the new place, having moved their beds over this week, though they are still shuttling back and forth to pack and move stuff. The dogs are at their new home as well, leaving me the run of the place. Its both liberating and a little melancholy. Add to that my mom just gave me a pair of my Dad's reading glasses that were found out in his old truck shop and I'm Emobear today.

I couldn't help thinking at the funeral how there were so many little gestalts within the larger crowd - so many subsets of the larger set that each had their own unique and even discrete experiences and perceptions of Martha. How each of them probably feels like they knew "the real" Martha. That is true I'm sure when anyone passes. We can feel empathy for others but ultimately its our own feelings where we get hurt.

Luckily the Varmint is on his way to pet me, and tomorrow friends will gather for a birthday event so I'll be fine, just wanted to write this out and pay my own respects to a kind woman who went too soon.

Finally!  Someone unearthed and destroyed his last phylactery!

http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/07/04/obit.helms/index.html

Too bad it wasn't a few decades sooner.

So the second I got off the plane in L.A. and turned on my phone, I got a text message from joezer that said "raise a glass for Steven Mackin."(coolukman for any that don't know) My heart sank and my mind whirled. Surely this could not be what i thought it was, this message should not have been coming for weeks or months, certainly not days after that last post of his. And as those who were with me at the Faultline Sunday night can attest "raising a glass" didn't go so well (who ever heard of serving cocktails in a heavy awkward real glass mug at a bar with a cement floor?! Like, OMG!)...;)

I knew what it was of course, I know good and damn well from sad experience what Joezer means when he says that, I just didn't want it to be true. I didn't want him to be gone so soon and I didn't want this to color my trip, but of course both things were inevitably true. I was worried that my uncle was going to die while I was gone too, but so far he's hanging in there. Still this was enough to leave me kind of wistful and preoccupied most of the week. No one in L.A. that I was hanging with seemed to know Steven, only about him, so I knew that I had a couple of choices: 1) have an emo fit right away and get it out of my system which would have no doubt been super awkward for my hosts, 2) be weepy and mopey all weekend and waste everyone's time, 3) stuff it and wait til I got home so I could commisserate with someone, or 4) make peace with it my own way.

( If you know me, you know what number I picked. )

I tried to put my hands in the water the same way but juggling my shoes and camera while trying not to get completely soaked made that difficult and catching the moment in a picture nearly impossible. I was reminded how things you try to hold onto slip through your fingers...water, sand, people, life.



Steven, I walked to the ocean for you, because you couldn't. Maybe you did in the past and I don't know about it, but I went to the water's edge for you and stepped in the cold surf because you can't. I decided that for you and for all my other departed, I would continue to enjoy my life and experience what I can so that you can come along for the ride.

Rest easy, sweetie.

Happy Belated to:

Ensign Eric ericdabear!

Cadet Mike foeclan!


and Happy Tomorrow to:

Cadet Dave bigdave!




Oh!  And Rest In Piece, Eric's gallbladder...we hardly knew ye... ;)

According to reliable sources, Jim drumcub died of a seizure early Saturday morning in Orlando. He was 22. He had been diagnosed with epilepsy so that seems to be the lead culprit at this time. There could be more info later, and I'll post what seems appropriate to.

Jim was closer to some of you than myself, but he was always good to me and I liked him. I found him to be friendly, diligent, smart, ambitious and capable, with a gently sardonic wit. I expected that he would succeed in whatever he set his mind and energy to, and I think the world - not just our gang of friends - will be the poorer for his absence.

My shoulder is sore today, from carrying him yesterday. That's alright. It matches my heart. It's sore from carrying him too.

...when I am not quite so drained and tipsy. I'm back. I have lots to think and write about, but not right now. I will get back to everyone that has called, written, IMed, commented etc in the last few days. You guys are awesome, and every gesture no matter how small has meant something to me. Thank you.

Well today it is hitting me hard. I went through my music collection and listened to a bunch of songs that remind me of Brian, or that I know he liked. The nostalgia alone of listening to so many songs from when I was growing up --working at the steakhouse with him, riding around Canton in the middle of the night in the "Barbarian-mobile" (his old Toyota with no muffler), weekends spent at the lake with my old gang of friends -- would make me wistful under the best circumstances. Today they just make me sad. I was doing mostly ok until I listened to "Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Then the waterworks turned on and combined with a cold, grey day have set my mood as "post-cry morose."

All these old 70's rock anthems are grating to many, cheesy to most, but whatever it is that is at the heart of them, Brian believed in it. Though songs like "Freebird," "Carry On," and "Dust In The Wind"(which I have not been brave enough to listen to yet) are redneck-rock funerary cliches, they were representative of Brian -- in him they were authentic.

The viewing is tonight, and though I anticipate seeing some faces I haven't seen in a while, am I of course dreading the event.

Updated Funeral Info Here


Freebird
If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.
But, if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.

Bye, bye, its been a sweet love.
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame.
But, if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
Cause I'm asfree as a bird now,
And this bird you'll never change.
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Lord help me, I can't change.

copyright 1973, Collins - VanZant