Loss Through Music: "Hold Down the Fort"

Today has been one of those days where I've been feeling a little more sorrowful than usual.  It's funny how grief can do that to you, isn't it? Even after all this time, you're still dealing with it, and you always will, in some form.

 I recently heard this song by Chris Pureka and Andrea Gibson.  Andrea wrote the lyrics while she was fighting cancer, while Chris put Andrea's lyrics to music.  Chris recalls playing the song for Andrea while she was in hospice, right before she died.  You can read more of their incredible story here.  And even though the song is deeply personal, there is also something universal to the lyrics -- that while we miss our loved ones, their loss and being gone is only temporary.  Lyrics follow after the video link.

 

 Hold Down the Fort

“Hold down the fort, ‘cause I gotta go.
Light on the water will carry me somehow.
Don’t say goodbye, forever is not too far.
The other side’s just a stone’s throw
from love and you’ve got a great arm.
You’ve got a great arm.

You held the pen to my chest each hour you were writing.
You said, ‘Every good poem is hell and heaven fighting.’
But there’s no gates where I’m going—
I think that’s a good thing.
I want nothing kept out
if I’m losing my everything ‘cause

I had it
I had it
I had it all, I had you.

Prints on the window
Where you watched me come home.
I hear your footsteps on every winter’s first snow.
But this too shall future.
I’ll circle back honey.
When they lay me down,
I’ll hit the ground running
back to you.

I had it,
I had it,
I had it all, I had you.
I had it all, I had you.
I had it all, I had you."

Words to Ponder Over: Brené Brown

 I came across this article from Brené Brown, written in 2018:  "The Midlife Unraveling". 

"As it turns out, I was right about one thing—to call what happens at midlife “a crisis” is bullshit. A crisis is an intense, short-lived, acute, easily identifiable, and defining event that can be controlled and managed.

Midlife is not a crisis. Midlife is an unraveling.

By definition, you can’t control or manage an unraveling. You can’t cure the midlife unraveling with control any more than the acquisitions, accomplishments, and alpha-parenting of our thirties cured our deep longing for permission to slow down and be imperfect....

 If you look at each midlife “event” as a random, stand-alone struggle, you might be lured into believing you’re only up against a small constellation of “crises.” The truth is that the midlife unraveling is a series of painful nudges strung together by low-grade anxiety and depression, quiet desperation, and an insidious loss of control. By low-grade, quiet, and insidious, I mean it’s enough to make you crazy, but seldom enough for people on the outside to validate the struggle or offer you help and respite. It’s the dangerous kind of suffering—the kind that allows you to pretend that everything is OK."

Brown's words remind me of another essay I read some time ago -- I can't remember where or what exactly -- but the gist of the essay was that we spend the first half of our life acquiring assets, and we spend the second half losing them.  All the more reason for us to show kindness and compassion to one another, especially as we get older.

 

When a Dear Friend Dies....

 

This was a post I was hoping I didn't have to write.

Way back in 1994, when I was a senior in high school, I had a job shelving books for the Toledo Lucas-County Public Library.  Back then libraries had considerably more physical books, and it's kind of funny thinking how Encyclopedia Britannica and World Book were the closest thing we had to the Internet before the Internet really took off.   After a few months of working there I met a new co-worker: Tom Ellis.  We hit it off with each other right away.  After working together for a few months, Tom would leave after getting a job with the U.S. Air Force.  Unfortunately we didn't stay in touch, until by a massive stroke of luck a few years later when I met Tom's brother, Bob.  Bob and I became good friends, while Tom lived in Florida, close to their parents.  Then --I'm tempted to say it was in 2008 -- Tom moved back to Ohio, and he and Bob shared a mobile home in Bowling Green.

For the next 15 years I would visit Tom and Bob at their home.  We would eat meals together, watch T.V. together, spend time in deep conversation with one another.   It didn't happen quite as often as I would have liked -- due to our competing work schedules and responsibilities, but I deeply cherished the times that it did.  Then, in 2022, after my mom and Carter and Milton passed, Tom and Bob really stepped up to the plate for me during my time of immense grief and sadness.  There were times where they would even let me crash at their place for the night, when I didn't want to be alone.  It was very comforting knowing that they continued to be a fixture in my life, even as so many other parts of my life were crumbling away.  To me they were like angels in human form.

Then, in June of this year, Tom received a devastating diagnosis: Glioblastoma, a very aggressive form of brain cancer with a 5-year survival rate of 5-10 percent.  The median survival time after diagnosis is a mere 12-18 months.  Tom had surgery not long after diagnosis, and for a very brief period he showed some improvement.  I remember the last time seeing him this past summer -- I believe it was July -- when he proudly showed me the back of his head where his scar was.  I was hopeful it would buy him a significant amount of time.

Unfortunately my hopes were misplaced.  Tom's difficulties increased over the last couple months, and he was moved to hospice on Christmas Eve, where he died peacefully on December 26 -- yesterday -- at the age of 51.  His sister called me with the news.  I was devastated.  No longer will I be going back to hang out with him and Bob, like I had been.

Why am I writing all this?  Lately I've been reflecting on how it's so difficult for so many people to find their way in this world.  Tom, I think, was one of those people.  Heck, I think I'm one of those people!  In many ways we were kindred spirits.  Like me, Tom worked various odd jobs during his adult life, trying to find his true calling.  He never married nor had children.  He conveyed a nonchalant and almost snarky attitude towards a world consumed by wealth, power, fame, and social media likes.

And yet -- underneath his almost mischievous smile and laugh of his -- I can't help but think that Tom felt a certain sense of disappointment and disillusionment towards the world he was living in.  Oftentimes it was hard for him to be out in public.  At times he struck me as being depressed and having an "it is what it is" mindset.  A couple years ago he told me that part of him wanted to move back to Florida after his parents were gone -- they had moved up to Ohio in 2023 to be closer to their family.  Part of me wanted to convince him to stay in Ohio, at least for a while.  Now, knowing that neither of those things will happen, I feel for his parents, along with the rest of his family, who have to say an awful and heartbreaking goodbye to him instead.

I don't have any other words to say at the present moment. I realize that time stops for no one.  And yet I can't help but feel sorrow for living in a world where so many kind, decent, goodhearted people are cut down long before old age, while so many others who are cunning, ruthless, and selfish live long lives and repeatedly hurt others without remorse.  But that is the world we must live in.  I don't mean to sound so dark, and I hope I can gain a better perspective in the weeks and months ahead.

Until we meet again, Tom, may God rest your soul.  I'm gonna miss the hell out of you.

Videos That Have Helped: Grieving the Life You Didn't Get

Kirby, a trauma and attachment specialist, is the man behind the YouTube channel Two Mind Method.  He has a really good video: "Grieving the Life You Didn't Get".  Grief isn't always about losing loved ones -- sometimes it's realizing that we're not going to live the life that we had originally envisioned for ourselves.

Some of the major points made in the video: 

- life is not fair - Lady Luck is oftentimes not on our side.

- so many of us have trouble finding the right romantic partner/job/financial security.

- thinking our life would be so much better if we could only have that one thing/group of things. 

- sometimes the reward we get is nowhere proportionate to the effort we put in.

-  a lot of times for good things to happen, we need to be in the right place at the right time in the right circumstances.

As I say every time I link to a video: the whole thing is worth watching.  And even though the YouTube comments section can sometimes be horribly toxic, reading some of the comments for this video has been humbling for me -- whenever I feel bad about my life, I realize there are many other people who are dealing with some pretty huge challenges.