i've seen a lot of it this year.
i could sleep for a week.
the hardest times were when my grandma wanted me to help her find something to wear to the wake, and i walked into their closet. all his clothes were hanging there modestly, western shirts made with airy fabrics, waiting to be slipped on.
55 years with someone.
i can't imagine spending 55 years of my life loving and living with one person, and then, suddenly, having them gone. it's enough to make you [me] wish to never fall in love and grow old with anyone. if i ever do get married, i hope we die together.
when i cried and cried myself to sleep these past few nites it was mainly for her.
she's not used to sleeping alone.
i can't spend much time on the wake because it's too hard to think of. his best friend from childhood (the one who has that annual reunion with our family & his) couldn't even speak. there was a service done by the masons, which my grandpa and this man were part of, and he couldn't even look up. it was heart breaking. that wasn't my grandpa in that casket. he was wearing a suit - my grandpa wears t-shirts and jeans. his hands were folded - my grandpa always has a guitar in his. his skin was pale - my grandpa is dark from spending so much time outside. his hair was thin and light - my grandpa's is thick and black. his mouth was closed, and there was still no sound - whenever my grandpa's mouth was closed, he was throwing his voice and i was looking all around trying to see who was talking. really, for the first time ever, i honest to god believed that body and soul are completely separate.
it's not as simple as you die and you're dead.
i know he is still somewhere.
the funeral took place in a tiny little chapel in the country. it's the same church he went to when he was a little boy. just an old building, no frills, no fancy decorations, no stained glass windows, the wood floors collecting dust and dirt. the interior is intimate. so intimate i wondered if there would be enough room for everyone to sit. it was warm, and when the people sang, they felt it. there is something about these people - my grandpa and the men and women he surrounded himself with - they're unlike any people i've ever come across. they grew up on bluegrass and country, and when their voices shake it's the sweetest sound i've ever heard. uncle norman, my grandpa's older brother, was leading the songs, and during my grandpa's favourite hymn, he just broke down and wailed, "oh, god, why?!" it made something inside me just die. i felt it all and nothing at all in my stomach. it just dropped. (later that nite, i heard my grandpa playing & singing that very hymn on a recording from 1953, and i now can't stop listening to it.) across the street is the cemetery where my uncle, his son, is buried. there's a tree we planted there when i was 17 after bryan died, and now my grandpa lies just beneath it.
at home we listened to recordings of my grandpa's band - my mom's cousin made cds for everyone. i wish you could hear them.
there's one part where you can hear my uncle mike as a little boy saying, "that's wi1d bi11 c1ark on piano!" and when he's finished, a little mike says, "you did good!" wi1d bi11 c1ark - that makes me smile. he was a complex character who taught all of us so much. i look at his life, and all that he saw in it, and am amazed.
listening to these recordings actually makes me happy more than it makes me sad, and as we all sat around listening to them i thought that that's exactly what my grandpa would have wanted.
their house has always been filled with music, and hearing my grandpa's voice was perfect.
*
wi1d bi11 c1ark
december 1, 1926 - october 17, 2004
i love you, papaw.