Caviar to catfish & saying goodbye to my cousin on the last day of 2009

There is nothing good about burying your cousin on New Year's Eve. Nothing. I would be happy to give up spending the day with missed relatives if I didn't have to feel what a funeral for the 34 year old cousin who wore that particular smile made me feel. But since that's exactly how I just spent the last day of 2009, it's the experience coloring the start of my 2010. Without my preferred last week of the year, usually reserved for reflection and thoughtful planning, instead I'm starting with 25 hours of solitary driving behind me. And an ocean's worth of emotion swirling through me.

Identity. It's the familiar theme that screeched to a stop in front of me again last week and is hanging on tight today. After spending time with the people most affected by this unthinkable loss, I've returned home with my selfish questions concerning my own space in the cosmos. These relatives live at an exhilirating pace with emotions a hair away from the surface at every moment; if they think it or feel it, they say it. I, on the other hand, have spent my life trying to learn how to keep what I think and feel contained in some appropriate box, brought out only under carefully-monitored circumstances. No other time in my life am I ever as in touch with the craving for unadulterated candor as when I'm with my aunt and uncle and cousins. And I'm always a little lost when I leave them behind. Never before, though, more than this time.

About me, my remaining cousin told his girlfriend, "She can go from caviar to catfish with no trouble at all," and I liked it. Of course, being a salmon/tuna/tilapia kinda' girl helps with that. Somewhere in the middle. I like possessing the ability to flow from one setting to another without a lot of hassle. The world's too interesting for me to require everybody around me to be the same. I crave the variety. But when you step away from fresh energy and return to your own familiar space, it leaves its mark on you.

Today the appropriate box feels confining. Smothering. There's no choice but to return to my work and force myself to focus on getting caught up from two back-to-back breaks. But when it comes time to step away from work? I don't know. Writing will help. I'll do a lot of that, no doubt. I'm craving speed, but given the circumstances of Jim's death, driving fast lacks a certain appeal. I think it's music that will help me get my head on right. Not the music I play every waking hour. Something more raw and permeating. I'm going to hunt down some loud, live music and let it fill me up. If it makes me cry while standing in the middle of a pack of strangers in this nice town where I live the bulk of my semi-appropriate life? That'll be just fine.

Comments

[Bob]

I'm so sorry about your cousin. And... I don't think any questions you have about your own space in the cosmos, are at all selfish. ESPECIALLY under the circumstances. It's the difficult times that help us get to our truth -- if we're willing to ask. Keep writing. Keep thinking. Keep sharing. And keep questioning.

[Lizzy]

Mel,

If you need someone to come with you and enjoy loud music, lemme know. Or if you just wanna get a cup of coffee and be quiet with someone, I'm happy to do that, too.

xoxo.

[Rob Hallett]

Melody,

You probably know about www.pandora.com but if you don't...enter your favorite music or your favorite LOUD music and they will build a radio station of music that is both new and comfortingly similar. I find it like comfort food I haven't had yet.

Rob

[Melody]

Thank you all for your comments.

Bob, I appreciate your sharing that it's not selfish. I think it must be natural, but it felt so selfish, all things considered. You said to me what I would have said to someone else, so I know you're right. Thanks for that.

Lizzy, it will be fun to hang out sometime. Quiet or loud, I'm sure we have a lot to catch up on.

Rob, Pandora is wonderful. I listen to it most days. Live music, however, affects me quite differently. I feel it more deeply, I guess. The raw creation of the art unfolding while I'm there, maybe. The energy... And I love how you said this: "I find it like comfort food I haven't had yet." Good stuff...