Souls Rising by Angeline of the Art Matènwa collective, 2010
Death is inevitable. It happens to the worst and, unfortunately, the best of us. It cannot be avoided and it is a common denominator of the experience of life. Why then does it seem certain times are plagued with an onslaught of people crossing over? Are there really times (war not included) when there is more death than others or do we simply notice it more when it touches us personally? 2016 so far has been one of those times when it seems like the grim reaper is leerily waiting around each and every corner.
Perhaps, we are collectively hopeful and positive when we pass into a new year. It's a beginning, a fresh start, a single step onto a year long path that leads to a place where the streets are yet unnamed and the possibilities are endless. We make resolutions and promises and set goals and try to bring a newfound excitement and joy onto this path that, hopefully, leads to an actual Emerald City. So, when death clobbers us repeatably over the head with its gnarled claw grasping a fatal hammer it startles us. It seems heavier, darker and more tragic. Like, for instance, when someone dies in a brutal and icy collision on Xmas Eve it somehow seems so much worse than if it happened on a lone Wednesday in February. Really, it is no better or worse on any given day but it is definitely more noticeable near a holiday.
It isn't just people in the public eye - Lemmy, David Bowie, Angus Scrimm, Natalie Cole, Alan Rickman, Glenn Frey, Dale Griffin - but also a dear friend's mom, another dear friend's longtime associate and the list goes on. To quote the Butthole Surfers "strangers die everyday." Callous perhaps or maybe just pragmatic and true. This world is overloaded with billions of people so thousands must pass every day, it's just statistics and, well, life. Obviously, David Bowie has hit me the hardest and as I write this I am actually pretty numb still. His death was very unexpected to me and most people except his closest loved ones. He is the most iconic figure to ever leave this planet while I am on it.
It does seem that 69 is the most common number amongst a lot of these deaths. Sure beats the ripe ol' age of 29 that seemed to be the (un)lucky number for so many rock stars of yore - Janis, Jimi, Jim, Kurt. I saw Patti Smith perform her legendary album "Horses" in its glorious entirety a few weeks back and, she too, is 69. Doesn't seem like she's going anywhere any time soon and she also didn't seem old. She's still rocking out and spitting on stage in true and original CBGB's style. 69 is too young to go but no one can ever accuse Lemmy and Bowie of not living life to it's fullest.
The most grievous and heartbreaking loss that I have experienced in my life was my beautiful Grandma Molly. She was the coolest, healthiest, most open minded and spiritual person I have ever known. Health was her #1 priority and she spent a huge percentage of her time preparing her meals, sourcing perfect ingredients, finding the right combinations and taking the essential vitamins. She made her own sunflower milk decades before you could buy Silk at every local store. The news that she had cancer hit us all so profoundly - her the most I imagine. It made no sense, nothing she did in her life was carcinogenic except, perhaps, living in NYC. She was 92 when she passed which is, by NO means, young but I think (unfairly to her & ourselves) we imagined her immortal. I have had this conversation many times with my Mom and we have come to the conclusion that since cancer was, inevitably, the thing that would take her out of this life that most likely it would have happened at 52 or 62 if she had eaten fast food on a regular basis. My point being that she actually did prolong her life by many, many years by sustaining a lifestyle that was kind and gentle on the body, mind and soul. My eyes are welling up with tears as I type this because I miss her everyday yet still feel so blessed that I had a such a strong role model that was literally in my life and not just on a record sleeve.
Hello. I like the idea that those who love us are literally a part of our DNA, because of how looks, hugs, and conversations alter our cells. In this way your Grandma is forever a part of you, inside you, and being expressed through you. Bowie is a more unreachable grief I suppose because he is on an album cover, and yet don't be fooled--he affected your DNA through the music you listened to. In other words, he is in there too, with Grandma. THis is much more comforting to me than the Heaven story--but to each hit own I suppose.
ReplyDeleteI do know that the one that will hit me hardest will be whenever Madonna goes. I see her as immortal, but she is not, I just hope she passes the 69 mark with flying colors because I suspect I won't be ready then, or ever.