It is time to take a moment to remember.

I remember his laugh, how he always smiled. He was one of those people who could lighten the mood in any room.

I remember how he gave the best long hugs. He would always squeeze me extra hard. His hair always smelled really good. He had long curls that I like to wrap around my fingers like little springs. I would wind it around my finger when we would talk, wrap it and unwrap it. Perfect little spirals.

He loved music. He was one of the most talented bass players I have ever met.

He came to every show I ever played and stood right in front of me. He would make faces and make me laugh. Even on the nights he had to work, he still would steal away long enough to come see me if I had a show. He would run in long enough for me to see him and then he would wave and whisk himself away as quickly as he had arrived.

He loved Marvin the Martian.

He was wearing a Mr. Bubbles shirt the last time I saw him.
I hugged him extra long that night. I didn’t want to let him go.
I drove away, and a few minutes later turned around again and went looking for him. I was not sure why. I went into the empty club and asked the guy sweeping up if he had seen him. The guy looked confused and told me they had all left a while ago. When he told me that, it felt like a punch in the gut.

I stood there in the empty band room where we had just played. I looked around at all of the paper and remnants of the night all over the sticky floor.
I could not figure out what I was doing there, something else was driving me, but I didn’t know what. All I knew was that I needed to see him.

I shook my weird feeling off the best I could and headed home.
I was going to see him the next evening at a party. There was no reason to be acting like I was not going to see him again.
That night I thought about him on the drive home. I relived every moment we had ever spent together in my head. I remember asking myself why I was suddenly so obsessed with the subject, but I really could not think about anything else.

The next day he called me early to confirm that I was going to the party. I told him I was getting a sitter and I was going to be there for sure.
About an hour before I was supposed to leave, I stood up and I crumpled to the floor. It felt like someone had taken a knife and started twisting in my back. I literally could not move. It hurt too much. The only thing I could do was lay on the floor, flat on my back. I called him and told him I wasn’t going to make it. He was bummed, but he understood. He said he would call me the next day and tell me about all of the fun I missed.
-------------------------------------------
My phone rang again at 6AM the next morning. It was my friend Jamie. She said there had been an accident. I asked her what hospital I needed to go visit them at. She said I didn’t understand. She said he was gone, they were all gone they didn’t live through the night, none of them. I told her she was lying and I hung up. I sat there for a long time trying to absorb what just happened.

I didn’t really believe it until I was standing by his casket wrapping his hair around my finger again. I stood there winding it up and unwinding it, waiting for him to open his eyes, or to look like him, or to look real at all.
Eventually the funeral director came up and gently took my arm and asked me if he could help me to my seat.

I kissed the cold marble that was now his forehead and whispered “Goodnight.”



For John David

So We Call it Bric-a-Brac

I sip this coffee slow
Don't want to burn my tongue
I'm running on fumes again
and the day has only just begun.

My head is in your space
Thoughts tumbling down like children on a grassy hill
They get to the bottom and climb back up again
with no real place to go
and superficial stains that can be stripped away
when the time is right to get out of our play clothes

My love for you is whole and complete
On a shelf collecting dust
like so many things we cherish too much to throw away
but we really don't know where it fits into our lives

so we call it bric-a-brac

My hands are tied like the knots in my stomach
and my body is the prison that sustains my life
My eyes close and I am lost in my head

Pulling heavy drapes closed on a sunny room

they are heavy with lack of sleep
unrealized dreams
and all of the potential I see wasted every day

These unspoken truths hang in every room we are in like a modern day painting in a Victorian house

The Cherry Blossoms always remind me of the Spring that Valerie died….

I had just moved to Washington for school, I didn’t know a whole lot of people here. I had a very small group of friends, and no family in the state. I was 23 years old, a single mother of one, a full time college student, and a struggling musician.
The amount of stress I was under was overwhelming. My life was going in fifty different directions at a time and it all depended on a very delicate balance of daycare, scheduling, and whatever juggling act I had to do to make it all work. One thing went wrong and the entire house of cards would all come tumbling down.
This one day in particular I was feeling especially overwhelmed. My daughter contracted the Chicken Pox the same week as final exams and my usual babysitter had never been exposed to Chicken Pox before so he could not watch her. I was forced to stay home with her. I called the school to plead my case to no avail.
Two of my teachers refused to let me make up the exams at a later time. I was going to a school that you would loose a grade for every day you missed no matter what the circumstances. I realized by the time the Chicken Pox were gone I would have failing grades in more than half of my classes.
I was in the doghouse with my band because I had already missed several practices and we had a big show coming up. They were already talking about finding a replacement for me.
Something had gone wrong with my financial aid so I was not sure how exactly I was going to pay rent that month or buy food.
I was wrecked emotionally and ready to give up. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of my living room, lights down, TV off, staring at the floor feeling sorry for myself.
I was thinking things like;
“How did I get here?”
“How is this my life?”
“Am I a good enough parent? Would my daughter be better off with different parents?”
“Should I quit school? Why do I even bother?”
“What is the point in all of this?”
“Wouldn’t everyone just be better off if I just gave up on living all together?”
That is when the phone rang. I’m not really sure why I picked it up. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
“Hello.” I said flatly into the receiver
“Michelle? Hey, it’s Valerie.” The voice on the other end responded.
“Hi, how are you? How have you been feeling? Is everything going ok?” I asked, my tone changing when I realized who it was.
Valerie was my friend from back home that had moved to Washington about the same time I did. She was a sweet girl. She was twenty years old, very friendly, very likable. She was one of those friends you could call at any time and she would be there for you no matter what. In the time since we moved here we had become very important to each other, we were one another’s connection to “home” and things familiar.
Valerie found out she had Cancer four months before when she went to the doctor about a pulled muscle in her leg. It turned out what she thought was a strained ligament, was actually a cancer tumor.
“Yeah, well, the doctors said that it has traveled all over my body, the Chemo doesn’t seem to be helping.” She said. I could hear her voice wavering on the other end of the line. “I have lost all of my hair. I don’t even have eyelashes anymore Michelle!”
Suddenly my problems were looking smaller and smaller.
“Don’t you worry, you are young and healthy! We will beat this Val! I swear we will!” I said trying to sound as convincing as I could, “We will find you a great wig! I am sure it is fine. There is nothing a little make up can’t hide until you get better!” I was trying to sound positive.
Silence. There was nothing for a few minutes and then I could hear her take a deep breath. She was crying.
“Come on Val, don’t cry, it really will be ok.” I said weakly
“I am so scared. I don’t want to die Michelle! I really don’t want to die.” She said, “I don’t know what to do. I just know I want to live! Help me! What should I do?”
All I could say to her was, “It is going to be all right, don’t worry.” and try to hide the fact that I was crying too.
In reality, I didn’t know if it was going to be all right. My close friend was drowning before my eyes and I could do nothing to save her. I was terrified. All I wanted was to say anything that would make it all better. I couldn’t find those words no matter how hard I searched for them.
“I am so afraid. I don’t want to die.” was her only response, “I want to live.”
A few days later Val died in her sleep. That conversation was the last time I ever spoke to her.

Since she died, any time life has overwhelmed me, and my mind goes to a place of giving up, I remember that conversation. I remember clearly Valerie’s voice saying, “I want to live.” It reminds me of how lucky I am to still be alive. No matter how bad things get, I am alive. I AM ALIVE!
In her life she gave me friendship. In her last days she taught me the value of how precious every moment we have on earth is. In her death she taught me how important it is to never take any day you have alive for granted, because she would have traded even my worst days for the Cancer that took her life.
She taught me that we as humans have a responsibility to enjoy life and make the most out of it. In her friendship Valerie taught me that life truly is a gift.
Even all of these years later I think of her all of the time. That day and that conversation and the lessons she taught me I will carry for the rest of my life. In my memories my friend who changed my whole world will forever live on.