Memorial Day

Another Memorial Day weekend, another chance to remember those who have passed, to think of all the people who are gone. More than I can remember, at least all at once. I’m never too sure how I should feel about people who died. Nobody ever explained that, it wasn’t covered in religion class, church, social studies, anywhere. How do you look at someone who is gone?

It is always a shock when someone tells you someone you know, or knew, is dead. You feel a pain, a loss, a part of you aches, maybe a part of you dies, I don’t know. But, it is painful, it hurts, and the closer you were, the more it hurts. And then it fades, an empty nothingness, a blank, a vacuum somewhere, some place you didn’t even know existed. And now it doesn’t. And nobody ever tells you how to deal with it.

So, you ignore it, somebody you knew is gone, forever. Deal with it. Easy enough, most of the time, but once in a while something creeps across your radar, a sound, a scent, a sight, a distant trembling madness that demands your attention, and you’re stuck. Looking into a place you don’t want to look into, or even think about. Thinking about somebody you will never see again, at least not in this place. And, it is always just you, and your empty place. Nobody really wants to know about it, everybody has their own memories, their own empty places, they don’t need yours.

“Deep into that darkness peering, 

Long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal dared dream before.”

The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

Sometimes you can’t see the face of the person, you can’t remember what he looked like, how her voice sounded, but you always remember where you were, what you were doing when you heard. You always remember that. The details are burned into a cave painting in the recesses of your sanity. And you look when you have to, but most days, it is in the dark, out of sight. And there is no instructions on when to look, how to feel when you do look. 

“I kept thinking about what the weatherman said, 

and if the voices of the living could be heard by the dead.

Well, the days gonna come when were going to find out, 

In some kind of way I take a little comfort from that, (now and then).” 

Jesus of the Moon, by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

I don’t know much about death, or spiritual renewal, or profound religious beliefs, and I’m not sure it would help if I did. But, I do know many people who meant so much to me have gone to join the choir invisible, and there are days I don’t think about them, and there are days when it seems as if that is all I think about. And I don’t know why. Death is almost taboo. Everybody can join, everybody will join, it is an offer you can’t refuse, but don’t ask about, don’t talk about it, and for God’s sake don’t think about it.

So, on Memorial Day I am going to toast all of those who are lost, to me and everybody else, and I am going to toast everybody who is still here. Everybody with a secret cache of regret they deal with alone. Because I know the old song was right,

“Pancho needs your prayers, it’s true

But save a few for Lefty too,

He just did what he had to do,

And, now he’s getting old.”

Pancho and Lefty, by Townes Van Zandt