We're still alive

The last couple months have been some of the most challenging of "life after."  They say for people with PTSD that life is split into "life before" and "life after," and that is so true for me.  I don't really remember what my life was before that day.

I've had the chance to see lately how music got pushed out of my life; I hadn't truly realized, however, how much my heart had buried. It's taken lots of processing along with insight from others to work at making space for this again. Derek's oldest brother was in town with his family this past weekend, so I took the day off to meet Brian's little ones for the first time.  It's been so long since I've driven up to Moose Lake.  It was hard to breathe at points.  With music on my mind, I went to talk with Derek before I went to the house.

I told him I joined the choir at a Catholic church, because it just felt right.  And then I laughed aloud - because I knew he would have laughed at the insanity of that idea too. I told him the retreat is over the anniversary of The Day, and that I had to believe there was great meaning in that.  I told him I'm confused, and so scared.  I told him that life felt much safer before someone arrived to remind me how I love music.  I asked him, "What if I get in touch with my heart again, let her take over, and let something like this happen again?"

What if I share that joy with someone again, feel my heart come to life again, and then...it's gone?  Gone, with no warning?  What if I lose my voice, my reason, my physical safety, nearly my life, for the sake of being near to that feeling again?  And I'm left alone to pick up the pieces and find a new way of being...again?

I told him I took the step.  I told him that no matter what, I had to choose to believe it will be good.  I told him I'm trying so hard to listen to the Universe and let the changes come.  Half a box of Kleenexes later, I got back in my car, and went to witness the lives of Brennan and Lily on behalf of someone who couldn't.

And this - a song from Sara Bareilles' new album which I liked but had yet to appreciate fully - came immediately from the speakers:

~~~

"It's a really old city, split between the dead and the living,"

So I thought to myself, sitting on a graveyard shelf

As the echo of heartbeats from the ground below my feet

Filled a cemetery in the center of Queens.

I started running the maze of the names and the dates

Some older than others, the skyscrapers' little tombstone brothers

With Manhattan behind her, 3 million stunning reminders

Built a cemetery in the center of Queens

You said, "Remember that life is not meant to be wasted,

We can always be chasing the sun."

So fill up your lungs and just run

We'll always be chasing the sun

So how do you do it, with just words and just music:

Capture the feeling that my earth is somebody's ceiling?

Can I deliver in sound the weight of the ground

Of a cemetery in the center of Queens?

There's a history through her sent to us as a gift from the future

To show us the proof - more than that, it's to dare us to move!

And to open our eyes and learn from the sky

From a cemetery in the center of Queens

You said, "Remember that life is not meant to be wasted,

We can always be chasing the sun."

So fill up your lungs and just run

We'll always be chasing the sun

All we can do is try and live like we're still alive

"It's a really old city split between the dead and the living."

So I thought to myself, sitting on a graveyard shelf

And the gift of my heartbeat sounds like a symphony

Played by a cemetery in the center of Queens...

~~~

Sometimes, I'm just so certain that you hear me.