Rock Me

I have a bunch of stoneresque thoughts swirling around in my mind of a profound magnitude. I can't get them out...

...this, i think, is the slow effect of my grandmother's death...i have been mentioning this topic a lot on here. it is in my mind, way in there deep. i painted my apartment. i started the day nana died, and it reminds me of the way the sun illuminated her final moment on earth.

...last night was like "this is your life". Dave-pal stopped by for a beer, Jeremy took me out for dinner, Leah phoned & I did a shot of Jager with Rachael.

...LMM brainchilded Dante's Inferno

...i've got too much to do and not enough time to be...

love, baby, love.

This Much I Know Is True

The death of my grandmother has made me look at the world slightly differently. Love is where it's at, baby. I've known that all along, but it seems so much more important now. Family is the foundation of love. I have come to terms over the past few years with the possibility that I may not reproduce. When my grandmother died, that idea made me sad.

Carl told me once on msn that our relationship could not sustain itself through email & online chats. He said we needed to see each other in the flesh. I pshaw'ed him. We haven't spoken in many months. I am sad about that. I still miss Ian lots. And I am worried about other friends (Jeebs) that are far away. I want to be close to people.

I'm all over the map these days, kind of in suspended animation. I need a jolt.

Late for class....

Deep Feeling

I don't have words for the intensity that i feel right now. Hush.

Check out the tune "Deep Feeling", a blues masterpiece by Chuck Berry. It speaks volumes.

When my grandmother died this afternoon, the sun came out so bright and shined in through her window. I opened up the curtain so it would shine on her face. Finally, a face full of peace.

At the moment, this is what i have to say about her life and death. I am so glad i was with her at the end. She was an awesome lady.

~~~
Like my grandmother, I grew up in the country before cable TV and DVD players. What a treat it was to come into Halifax and spend the weekend at Nana’s. Not only did it mean a trip to the McDonald’s drive through, but it also meant Saturday morning cartoons. As a child, a trip to Nana’s was like being a kid in a candy store – literally. She always had cookies & ice cream, she was always game for a trip to the mall, she would gladly take our nickels during a game of scat, and she never minded when we made forts out of her sofa cushions. She let us stay up late, she sat on the floor and coloured in our colouring books with us and she always let us have control of the remote.

Claire was a proud lady, and she had good reason to be. She often told me how lucky she was to have three great boys. Ralph, Pete & Steve, she admired all three of you and was full of stories that embody what makes each of you special for her. I think that she considered being your mom a real treat.

Nana loved being a grandmother too. She loved to spoil us and I think that we helped to keep her a little young. We’re all familiar with that twinkle in her eye. Anyone who has visited Claire’s home has surely watched her grandchildren lose teeth, get braces, grow up, graduate. The photos on her shelf changed as we did and were often touchstones for funny anectodes & tales of achievements; always full of pride and unwavering devotion.

The most important thing Nana ever taught me wasn’t necessarily a lesson she intended to. When I was with her on Friday, I noticed that she was still wearing her wedding ring. Over the last few years, as an adult getting to know my grandmother, I have often been struck by her love for her husband. My grandfather passed away 20 years ago when I was 9, but I remember well his easygoing good nature. Nana likes to point out these traits in her sons. She has never stopped loving Earl and I have always had a great deal of respect for that love. This is the example she has been to me; of how important it is to stand beside the people you love and to hold each other up when times are hard, like they are now for us. My greatest hope for Nana over the past week has been a hope for peace and the hope that she has met up with Earl and is baking him a pie right now.

Thank you Nana, I love you.

Death Consumes Her

I've spent the past couple of days watching my grandmother die.


It's very weird.

It's a Long Way to Tipperary

My grandmother loves that song. It was one of her favorites.

She just told my dad & my uncle that she's dying. She is. Right now. Just across town.

I had a feeling she wouldn't make it far into 2005. I really hope she just dies quickly and peacefully and that her wish of being reunited with my grandad is fulfilled. She loved that man fiercly and proudly for her entire life. When I saw her on Saturday, she grabbed my hand in both of hers when I was leaving and she pleaded with her eyes...."come see me" she said gently with a touch of panic. I could tell at that moment that she knew the end was near. I am afraid to go see her tonight. She has talked to me many times about wanting to die, she has made no secret of it. I asked my mom if the nurses could just up her morphine dosage so she could go quickly. They think she will make it through the night.

I would rather she was oblivious. I can just picture the fear on her face when she said that to her sons. What does that feel like?

Nana, don't be scared. It's not far from Claire to here.

Peace to you. I love you.

if i can't keep my mouth shut, i should at least get the words right. curses, foiled again. i'm my own worst enemy.

i listened to rubber soul tonight and loved it.

welcome to hormone week*.

*hormone week is proudly sponsored by tampax tampons

Stir the Pot

Based on my experience, it would be best for women on their moon to be prohibited from communicating with the outside world.

Just stay home with Julia Roberts, Meg Ryan, Sandra Bullock, Gwyneth and the girls.

No visitors, no phone calls and definitely no email.

I bet the world would be a better place.

Missing

Tobin Street, January 9th, 2004 (Friday night)

In Halifax, there is a lot of live music. In Winnipeg, I didn't experience that at all. In Halifax it is my perspective as an adult. It's a great scene, and there are cliques as the young 'uns grow up a little, or a new kid shows up in town, and there are sub-scenes, like punk and hip hop and whatever The Family is. All these groups make up what I love about this city, and they interact like cogs. The gears that grind the town. Grind you down. Bring you up again. If you watch closely, you can see the influence they bring to each other. You can hear it, you can feel it. It might be the nod of a head, the tapping of a toe, the stage banter. But if you look real close, you can see it in their fingers, in the bending of a note, the flick of a wrist.

I am a privileged member of a sub-scene. There's no question. I am only beginning to appreciate it. I have witnessed many hours of genius. Some people will never get to see what I have seen, hear what I have heard, feel what I have felt. I know that in all those other scenes, the same thing is happening all over town. People are doobin' down and playin' tunes. Magic is being created. I hope all those other audiences (those not lucky enough to pick up an instrument) have been moved as I have. Because I have heard music that has made me dizzy and dumfounded and hushed with awe. For hours and hours on end. It's like knowing a dirty secret, almost. The experience is not incredibly unique, while at the same time managing to be totally and completely unique. I wish there was a way to impart upon the world the music shared at 5139, and the music I heard in the basement and at the mothership, and here in the little place on Tobin Street. Wow.