and time, it swallows everything

I go through periods where all I can do is cling to a particular song, or album, or artist to anchor me to the earth and prevent the pieces of me from scattering into the wind.

I wondered when it would hit, exactly. I remember in late October, about a month after my father’s mother passed away, it grabbed me suddenly and capitalized on my young, inexperienced mind. I felt numb for the first few weeks, wondering if I was doing a better job of accepting this incredible loss than I had originally thought. And then, like a tidal wave, the profound sense of mortality and insane speed that the world moves in came crashing down onto my life. I felt frozen and panicked, wakened in the night from terrible nightmares that everyone around me was perishing, leaving my life forever. I would curl up on the bathroom floor and alternate between sobs and deep breaths, the sense that I had lost all control.

In reality, I had never had control. No one does. We have what can only be described as the illusion of control, the perception that we have a say in what happens to us. When ultimately, it is far beyond our comprehension and ability to manipulate. An idea that is almost devastating when considered for too long.

But as with all massive loss, I was able to grapple with this newfound sense of meaning, or lack thereof, and overcome these late night meetings with panic.

Then it hit again. A sudden and unexpected illness (is there any other kind?) comes over my mother’s mother, taking her life in a matter of days. I had almost twenty-three years without any true sense of loss, real and true forever loss and now it was pouring down around me. I felt the worst sense of deja-vu I’ve ever felt, as she died from an almost identical medical complication and the words out of the doctors’ mouths were utterly and unbelievably the same. A nightmare in waking life, we watched her slip into a coma and her heart and lungs surrendering to the devastating effects of a stroke. We said goodbye while simultaneously attempting to find meaning in what it meant to say goodbye.

I felt her death with different weight and sadness – as she was a different person and held a different space in my heart – but with the same familiarity of late September. The following weeks were spent numb – sad, but truly shocked and numb to the core. And, like clockwork, I have arrived at a little over a month later.

It would be nice to think that I learned a little from the first bout with this panic, this devastating sense of permanent loss. To think maybe I could have evolved a bit, with a healthier and more stable notion of mortality. But the truth is, the nightmares have returned with the same ferocity as before and I find myself blindsided, frozen and stunned.

Several days ago, I was delighted to see Amos Lee had released a new album and immediately downloaded it on iTunes. He has been one of my favorite artists for years now and I knew it would provide a welcome distraction. Playing on repeat now, it grounds me in a way nothing else seems to be able to do and thank god for that. I know, from experience, that it will pass again. But I’m only more struck by the notion that this is only the beginning of a lifetime of goodbyes. And then panicked, all over again.

And time, it swallows everything
From the mighty to the meager thing
And it’s as dark as it is comforting
To play along

-Amos Lee, What’s Been Going On