Playing the new Jason Aldean album while I cleaned the bathroom in anticipation of your first visit to my other home. As things in each song remind me of you, I'm hit by a wave of...i don't know. Sadness. Grief. Both and more, so much stuff that I can't separate it out. But that voice in my head is saying loudly and clearly "He gave me you. I never would have had you if I hadn't lost him."
For I can't remember how long, I've told people that I can't feel like I'd change things in my past because I wouldn't be in the moment I'm in, wouldn't have the good things that I did, if I hadn't had all those things in my past, the good and the bad. And except for sometimes wanting to take back the shitty things that I had done to others, I believed that. Mostly still do. But if I only have this because he's gone, and I could change that, would I? It's probably best that I can't answer that definitively.
It's a bitter pill knowing that I wouldn't have this work that I really do love, this path that I'm walking, these loves I can't imagine giving up, without his illness and death. And, if challenged to discuss it logically, I would tell you that I know this can't be true, that this isn't how the mechanics of life work, but maybe the only comfort I can get from it is that he gave me this because I wouldn't have him. He knew I needed work that would fufill me, give me meaning, and people to love me, finally loves who understood my brand of crazy and my brand of love and sex. He had to wait a bit to give it to me, because I couldn't have seen anything when he first left. But he gave me back my bestfriend, the link to my past, then the therapy to help me save myself, and then the work and then you. Of course, with you, more than the others, he had to walk me through it, sit with me through those sad confused drives away from the life I was standing on the edge of, holding my hand while I figured out how to take the jump I really wanted but had not come prepared for. There's no way I'll ever be able to thank him for all he gave me while he was alive, much less all he has given me since.
I have to hope that I gave him some measure while he was alive too though. I remember a conversation with drunk him where he said he confessed that his plan was to live in the suburbs of larger Midwestern city until my grandparents passed and then he'd do whatever he wanted, live wherever he wanted, but he had to be the one to stay there and take care of them. I was 18 and couldn't imagine not getting out for that reason. For days, all I could think of was the Tim McGraw song "Everywhere," about the man who sees the love who stayed behind in the small town they grew up instead of taking to the road with him everywhere they go. I'm glad he didn't do that. I know that life forced him out, but, if I mourn that he only got to live less than a decade out, I can't imagine knowing he never got to do that. I hope he knows how happy I was that he got out. At least I do know that he felt like I helped when he came out, even if I inadvertently pushed him out before he was ready to be out with my grandparents. (Not exactly my fault. Most of you know the story.)
I got the Jason Aldean from him too, and the permission to hang on to my crying songs. I feel him in me as I'm making the drive to see you or the drive from you to work, how my body feels in the seat, how my hand looks on the wheel as I smoothly navigate the big highway between the home circumstances won't allow me to give up yet and the one you provide. Listening to Aldean's "Talk," I'm reminded of our talks, our-singular-male in between play, the long nights of getting to know each other more, and our-singular-female in the never long enough mornings, where I'm torn between never wanting to stop you talking to me for fear you might not feel that open again and wanting to touch you, hold you, kiss you. Then, "Don't Give Up On Me" is how I pray you keep standing by me:
"You tie the knot when I'm at the end of my rope,
You never stop believing in me when I don't know,
Who I am or what I'm supposed to be,
I don't give you no good reasons,
But baby don't give up on me,"
But right now, I'm loving "When She Says Baby," though I wish I change it to "When They Say Baby:"
Some days it's tough just gettin' up
Throwin' on these boots and makin' that climb
Some days I'd rather be a no-show lay-low
Before I go outta my mind.
But when she says baby,
Oh no matter what comes ain't goin' nowhere she runs her fingers through my hair and saves me.
Yeah that look in her eyes got me comin' alive and drivin' me a good kinda crazy
When she says baby.
Oh when she says baby.
Some nights I come home fightin' mad
Feel like runnin' my fist through the wall.
Is it even worth it what I'm fightin' for anymore feelin'
Torn all the hell with it all.
But when she's says baby,
Oh no matter what comes ain't goin' nowhere she runs her fingers through my hair and saves me.
Yeah that look in her eyes got me comin' alive and drivin' me a good kinda crazy
When she says baby
Everything gonna be alright.
Just lay down by my side.
Let me love you through this life.
Yeah she's the perfect shot of faith.
When every bit of mine is gone.
Somethin' I can believe in a best friend
A heaven sent love to lean on.
But when she says baby,
Oh no matter what comes ain't goin' nowhere she runs her fingers through my hair and saves me.
Yeah that look in her eyes got me comin' alive and drivin' me a good kinda crazy
When she says baby.
Oh when she says baby.
Yeah that look in her eyes got me comin' alive and drivin' me a good kinda crazy."
But now I have to go to that work he gave me and the job that I keep because of the life I want to build with you. And i hope that I can make him proud, if nothing else, if I'll never be able to thank him properly.
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