Saturday Night

by | Sep 12, 2010 | 1 comment

Very quiet.  Missing you very, very much.  But those words are insufficient.

I thought more on the economics of love and death.  I thought about how it makes sense that breaking death’s hold would involve loving through death.  Showing love – giving without taking- by death- who takes without giving.  On a cross?  Maybe.

It was a long afternoon.  The numbness of the past couple of days is fading, but I’m not ready to jump into the pain yet so I’m avoiding reading certain things I’ve set aside- more word keeping.  It’s the minute or so in between my contractions and I’m just not ready for another one yet.  I need to rest for just a bit longer.

Audrey and I did some finger painting.  She tells me which colors to put down on her paper and points to the spot she wants them.  She’s a very dainty finger painter and doesn’t like getting too messy.  I told her she could paint one for Appa and that he would like that even though he’s not here.  Her face literally lit up.  She was so excited.  She chose blue and green for that one.  I even did one myself-  I chose blue and red.  (We only have four colors)  The red became kind of enveloped by the grayish blue around it and it looks like a dying flame or embers or a glowing heart surrounded by mist.  I felt satisfied with it and we hung them all up on the kitchen cabinets with tape.

I am tired of the platitudes.  Some people literally seem to list them off to me.

I am tired of:
“You are lucky you had that love.  Some people never do.”
“Aren’t you glad you have those memories?”
“You have Audrey-you’ll always have a part of him.”
“I think God is sad too.”
“The truth is time heals, and you’ll go on.”
“He did more in 33 years than some people do in their whole life.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by Audrey’s upcoming birthday- the reality that you are missing it- and that she’s only two.  You really didn’t get to see much of her life at all did you?  Less than two years…less than two years.

Also preparing emotionally for the benefit concert that will be in Brooklyn at the end of the month.  I want to see Dan honored for all that he gave to music…which was everything he had really.

I am suffering from migraines again and have no plans for tomorrow.  It is very lonely without you Dan. Your death has changed everything.  I tried thinking of you as just a chapter of my life that has ended- the Dan Cho chapter.  But that doesn’t work.  We were like the dovetailed joint of a fine piece of furniture.  If you’re ripped away, something has to give- something has to fall apart…and I guess that’s me.


September 12, 2010

1 Comment

  1. Rachelle11

    I weep at your last paragraph. The injustice of death to those left behind is excruciating.


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