Word Prison, Heaven’s Door
The first concert Owen ever went to see, was Bob Dylan, at San Diego State University. I don’t remember the year, but he was 15, so I’m thinking it must have been sometime in 2001. It may have been after 9/11 and after Grandma died that October 9th, or it could have been shortly before both of those landmark events in Owen’s life.
He was working at Cafe Zia at the time. A very young working man, who was proud to use his own money to buy concert tickets and guitars. He did both. At the time, he had four beautiful guitars in his room, and he played them daily, choosing each carefully, depending on the songs he wanted to play and how they should sound. He always showed up at work on time, and was glad to have the opportunity to feel like he contributed to the household and his personal interests. Watching Owen work hard, and place value on his efforts, was, indeed, a beautiful thing.
Owen went to that concert by himself, and we waited up for him to return home. We lived just a few blocks from the University, and he had walked over, and back. He talked about the concert for quite a while afterwards. Dylan was one of his heroes. One of many.
Nat and Owen went to see James Brown at the Del Mar Fairgrounds shortly after that Dylan concert. They had such a great time together, watching one of rock’n'roll’s greats. There were very few live concerts after that, for Owen. He was fairly reclusive after we left San Diego. He depended on DVDs and CDs to take him into the heart of music. He did it well.
Tonight, on the eve of Easter, I can only imagine that Owen didn’t have to knock but once, at Heaven’s Door. Owen’s afterlife depicts heaven as a place of release. If anyone would have been allowed entrance, it would have been him. I can’t tell you what he thought of heaven, only that he knew it existed…in whatever form you or I thought it should, given each person’s frame of reference.
Word prison - what does that mean? It means that I can’t write everything I’m thinking and feeling, in a public forum. It means that for many of us who write about our most private thoughts, we share them only with those we trust - to take them at face value AND in metaphorical terms. In other words, we write privately, as well as on the Internet. Owen did. What he posted on the Internet was but a sliver of his journal entries. When he crossed the line, he did so with a wild abandonment, known mostly to youth. He was young. He will never be old. He will be…forever young.
Song for the night: Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, Bob Dylan
http://youtube.com/watch?v=m2feoIM9baI&feature=related
emmitt-owen-riley
linda-siniard
I understand what you are saying about “word prison.” As much as I would like to write certain things on my blog, there is only so much you can say about personal topics without being truly vulnerable, without revealing so much of yourself that you lose all sense of personal boundaries. I think it is wonderful that you are able to share as much of yourself as you do…it is likely that many a parent suffering from the loss of a child finds solace in your words, and that is a truly great feat, given that oftentimes those of us who have not experienced such a thing do not know what to say, or do, for that matter, to help ease the pain of another’s unique grieving, if even for a moment. I think it (or rather know) that your blog even helps those who have not experienced such a loss…that your words are a comfort, a safe place to go to remember, and give those immersed (sp?) in any type of grief a moment of comfort, of feeling as if they are not alone, that their thoughts are not “crazy.” I believe that you validate the feelings of many who feel alone, confused, angry, or simply lost…and that is truly a great thing. From what I have gathered about what you have said about Owen, not knowing him personally, I think it would be fair to say that he is proud of you…for giving hope where there is none, for letting others know that it is okay to grieve, and that, while he does not want you to suffer, he is grateful that you have found a community where you can be of comfort to others, and also process your sorrow, your hope, and where you can remember him and allow others to know about him. I hope that you know that you do bring comfort to others, even if this is a place where you can only share limited expressions of your grief, and I hope you find solace in remembering Owen here. It is safe here, and with the world the way it is, that is no small feat.
Wow. What Rose said. Exactly.