Quarter after nine. I hear “Radio Gaga” in my head. The Works was an album that Kate bought for me in fall 2011. So here we are moving into the autumn again. The seasons proceed onward with or without us. School starts and days get shorter. May as well accept that we’ll be staying in a trailer longer than expected. Nothing I can do about it. The city inspectors drag their feet and my friends keep asking the same question: just accept it. I can’t change it. I feel a little like crying, but what for? Because it’s a loss. When there’s a loss, we mourn. Finally we accept.
Tag: Mourning
The Final Two Years
The two years alone with Mom became a blur. I guess I feel ashamed for having lived with my mother at the age of 33. But it was the lap of luxury because she had a lot of money. Together we made prime rib at home; shrimp scampi; pasta salad. We really enjoyed each other’s company when holidays came. And there were of course the tall brandies and water every evening. We joked that the sun was over the yardarm and rattled the ice cubes. Dr H— kept warning Mom that with the combination of hyperglycemia and smoking she was a prime candidate for a heart attack. She started a trial of Wellbutrin to help stop smoking but went on smoking anyway. I doubt if she told H— about the brandy. For my part, I just sort of sleepwalked through those two years. I read my books and made music with my friends, but with some resentment. I hated coming home from rehearsals with my ears ringing and my head full of religious delusions. It made Mom happy to see me in a rock band, so I kept doing it. The bottom line was that I wasn’t well. The antipsychotic I took at the time was inadequate. I could’ve stayed with R— and I— and played their acoustic music, but I felt unappreciated for my input. Also we weren’t going anywhere. I think it was August 2001 when I rejoined Blueface. The mosquitoes ate us alive that evening out by Dorena Lake. When I got home I used Solarcaine on the bites and it worked great…
I don’t know what I was really aiming for when I played with those guys. That fall, when I was listening to the radio, I heard “One Night in Bangkok” and it took me back to 1982. Also I heard “Shock the Monkey” again. This moment I grow emotional over the music and my mother. I loved my mom so much, but I hated having schizophrenia. Part of me wishes she could have lived forever. I remember one of the last recordings I made that she heard. She liked it. She died on 14 December 2001 at the age of 73. And then life got a lot more complicated…
robgradens 