As I sat in your final Vegas show, mesmerized by the glitter, emotions, and music, I was overcome with this feeling of finality. Finality scares me some. Your show was ending, gone, and all of the happy times I had experienced in Vegas over the last 4 times I had been to see you were also final. I thought of my grandpa.
I experienced the first personal death in my life in July 2009. My grandpa with whom I spent my entire childhood died after a battle with Parkinson's Disease. I know I am very blessed to be in my 30's with only one death experience and that there are more to come. Still, the end of his life bleeds pieces from me. I find it hard to swallow the emotion of it. It wells up sometimes and makes my body feel hollow and watery. While death might be a rite of passage for the one who died, for me, it was so personal, so connected and his loss chipped away a portion of me that will never come back, never be the same. Maybe it is for those pieces that I cry. It is so final.
You sang a song with Jake Shimabukuro on ukelele, simple, gorgeous, divine. It was also the song I chose for my grandpa's funeral slide show. It is a song that is so apt, so perfect and most of all, such a clear representation of the nature of being human. As, "There are places I remember" rang out in tender tone from your lips, my heart sank. My body felt deep and hollow and then, my grandpa's pieces, the memories flooded inside me and as I watched you sing about the memories you will take from your journey in Vegas (and perhaps as a showgirl), I had a separate experience in which the words were between my grandpa and I. You were singing his memories, my memories, and your own. I miss him, that grandpa of mine.
How are we to deal with the finality of a death? How do we move on? How are we to watch those we love leave, those we cherish turn to pieces? How did you handle all of the death in your life with grace? There are more deaths to come for me, and I am petrified of the finality. Advise this tender soul?
No comments:
Post a Comment