every lament is a love song
by Stace on October 31st, 2011
filed under pretty things
i woke from a dream last night
i dreamed that you were by my side
reminding me i still had life in me…
i’ll carry on… – Switchfoot, “Yesterdays”
A decade ago, I was a completely different person than I am today. I was homeless in San Diego, far from home and scared, and a master at pushing people away. Suffice it to say that I wasn’t surrounded by a close circle of friends. Sure, I had a few, thank God. One of the girls I’d grown up with, Allison, had recently been diagnosed with brain cancer, just before turning 23. I remember the day I called the hospital trying to reach her mom or husband: Ally picked up. Though we’d both grown up and moved away, we’d always stayed in touch. And while we’d spent many a childhood hour in church, we’d bonded over rejected principles as teenagers, and again over shared discovery of who God actually was. Not knowing if I’d ever have the chance again, I savored every moment of that phone conversation. Ally was happy. She wanted more than anything to have a baby, but ultimately was in love with her husband and at peace with God, her illness, and whatever was to come of it all. We prayed together, said our “I love you”s and essentially our I-hope-this-isn’t-goodbyes, and left nothing unsaid. We had been there for each other for a great many things over our fifteen year friendship. It turned out to be the last time I ever heard her voice.
Ten years ago today, Ally died. Somehow, though I always knew it could happen, I must’ve been expecting a miracle. That someone I loved so much and had known for so long could just be gone completely blindsided me. Living in San Diego in a community of other believers helped, but it took the better part of the first year just to stop reaching for the phone to call her. Even at her memorial service, Ally’s mom & I lamented that the strangest part was that she’d want to go home and call her to tell her how much it meant that her friends had come from all over. I guess if you’ve not lost someone you love, this may sound strange. I knew exactly what she meant. I’ve long since stopped trying to reach out, but I’ll never forget that odd feeling.
I’m always cautious about my actions and my surroundings on this anniversary. I take the day off from work, school, everything. Sometimes people don’t understand this, and they want to give me that whole “look on the bright side!” rubbish. The truth is, I do. I do look on the bright side – three hundred and sixty-four days a year. In fact, on Ally’s birthday, every year without fail, I call all of my friends and make a special effort to tell them I love them. I never want to take the chance of losing anyone without them knowing how I feel. I also make a point to treat her birthday as a celebration of life. Because that’s true, I feel it’s appropriate, respectful, and completely warranted that I give myself the anniversary of her death to be sad. Truth be told, getting in touch with emotions like those isn’t easy for me. While I don’t think there’s anything wrong with tears, they don’t normally come easily to me, so this is the one day of the year I purposely seek them out. I give myself one whole day to miss my friend, and then I move on and enjoy Halloween, knowing it’s exactly what Ally would want.
Months after Ally’s passing, when my roommate and I had finally found a place to live, (and jobs!) we went to the movies. Admittedly, that pretty boy Shane West was in A Walk to Remember was reason enough for me. I knew nothing about the premise of the film, and wasn’t a big fan of romantic movies in general, but went anyway. Something someone said as we were headed for the theater tipped me off that it might involve a death, but I didn’t give it much of a second thought. When it turned out to be a story about a teenager with leukemia (who eventually dies), it was all I could do just to keep from sobbing out loud in the theater. As people were filing out when it was over, I just waited as the credits rolled, praying I’d be able to somehow pull myself together and just get home. I own the DVD now and if ever I watch it, it’s only on October 30th, because I know it will only ever remind me of my sweet friend and that very specific time in my life.
Over the years, I’ve come across my share of songs that make me remember Ally. Today I planned to share my very favorite of these songs (the one from which this post gets its title and lyrics) as a video on my Facebook page, but discovered to my dismay that all that existed were cheesy photo slideshows made by fans and live performances with less-than-stellar audio. Rather than giving up, I decided to make one of my own. I didn’t know how, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. I’ll end my post with my creation, and hope that someone will enjoy it as I do. And now on with another year: Happy Halloween!
i remember you like yesterday, yesterday
i still can’t believe you’re gone
i remember you like yesterday, yesterday
and until i’m with you, i’ll carry on…
ain’t that a shame?
by Stace on October 8th, 2011
filed under ticket to write
i never ask for more than i deserve
you know it’s the truth
you seem to think you’re god’s gift to this earth
i’m tellin’ you, no way
-Janet Jackson, “What Have You Done for Me Lately?”
You make me sick. Seriously, how dare you treat people the way you do? What makes you think it’s alright to speak to other human beings as you do? You must be pretty proud of yourself; you’ve done so well. And yet there you are, daily, talking down to people like they’re pieces of trash. And not just any people. No, specifically it’s those around you who are there for you day in & day out, breaking their backs just to help you succeed.
I asked you a simple question. I wasn’t questioning your judgment, or doubting you. I was sincerely trying to help – the same kind of thing for which most in your place would actually have thanked me. But you couldn’t do that. You had to shout at me and belittle me in front of other people instead. I hope it felt good. Really, I hope you were able to let off a little of that steam. It seems that that’s necessary, and at least I’m strong enough (for the most part) to take it. Still, it wasn’t enough for you to be condescending and publicly embarrass me. You had to actually continue to come after me; you didn’t get enough of what you were looking for in the first go round? It wasn’t enough until you were shouting so loud that you were literally screaming? Apparently that’s the case, so I hope it had the desired effect: I hope it made you feel like a big, strong, important man.
What you don’t seem to get is that every time you see me, I’m literally there to help. I hear you use that tone regularly with others and I inwardly cringe, but I say nothing because I’m just thankful it isn’t me. Here I was thinking that I had somehow earned your respect, and in the end I somehow manage to be the unlucky soul who incites a tyrannical outburst of epic proportions instead. And now I sit here thinking I no longer care if you respect me or not. What bothers me is that the remorse you allegedly feel for this morning’s explosion will wane without consequence, and ultimately it will matter not to you that what it cost you was my respect. I’ll never look at you the same way, and I’ll never forget how I felt watching your mouth contort and clench with rage. It may be of small concern to you, but I’ll never admire you again. I’m gonna ask this one more time, and then I’m gonna take a big deep breath and get on with my life. How fucking dare you talk to another human being the way you did today? You, sir, disgust me.
I really do hope it was worth it.
what have you done for me lately?
