To See, To Hear, To Feel

On days like this one, I just want to see Owen’s face, hear his voice, feel his presence.  It’s hard to recreate him in my head as I’m driving to work, working, driving home, going to the store to buy a dinner I don’t have to cook, then coming home to the kitties.  Yes, the cat-a-poos are some comfort, because Owen loved them.  But, they can’t sing Nirvana songs.  Damn it all.  Where are those little kitty guitars and the little kitty microphones when I need them???

For a while now, I haven’t listened to Nirvana intentionally.  Sometimes I’ll hear one of their songs on the radio, and the simple act of driving becomes a gift from a supernatural power.

Those are not my hands on the steering wheel.  That is not my face in the rear-view mirror, when I check to see if I’m still here.  There’s someone in the car with me, singing (or screaming) the words, and I watch me from the passenger seat, the seat where Owen used to sing and scream with me.

Tonight, a night when I need to go to bed early in order to be fresh and alive for an all-day meeting at work tomorrow, I looked up Paul Anka on YouTube.  Yep, you read that right.  Paul Anka. 

I was looking for something from my childhood, not sure what.  Just something that would take me to a sweeter time, to songs with melodies that could be memorized and sung silently during day-long meetings.  What I found was Paul Anka singing his rendition of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and I flipped.  Flipped in a happy-you-heard-the-spirit-way, Paul; and in a WTF? way.

So, I began my intentional search for YouTube Nirvana videos – again.  I’ve spent the last hour watching, listening, and remembering.  I choose my songs for the night carefully, on most nights, though there have been some, that upon reflection, I go…huh? 

I am mindful of our situation, not knowing what happened to Owen, and knowing no one in our local community’s law enforcement agency will ever willingly tell us what they found out, and what they didn’t.  Thus, my posts are mindful of our futures.

But, hey, WTF?  Sometimes, I just need to see, hear, and feel my kid – right here in my living room.  I need to feel my skin peeling off at the loss of his sweet spirit.  I need to remember the days when we sang, screamed, shook our heads, and paid attention.  As Lea says, “Attention is the most expensive thing we pay.”

I’m glad you can’t see me tonight.  You wouldn’t recognize me.  I don’t…but I remember.  Owen, I remember.  And, listening to tonight’s song, I can see, hear, and feel you.  Thanks, Oh-Bert.

Song for the night: Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana


~ by Linda on January 28, 2008.

2 Responses to “To See, To Hear, To Feel”

  1. Yes, sometimes we need to find a way to bring them back, even though it hurts so much to only be able to do so in such truncated ways.

    Hang in there.

  2. ‘It’s hard to recreate him in my head …’

    That’s a feeling which everyone fears, I think – that the memory will somehow fade over time, and then one day you simply won’t remember what they really looked like or how they sounded.

    That one day you won’t be able to close your eyes and see a perfect image of them any more. That this little tiny thing of them that you now have left won’t one day be on hand when you need it.

    It would be awful if that happened, because in a way it would be like losing them all over again.

    I don’t know if it’s any help to know that whilst time deadens many things, this isn’t one of them. Yeah, sure, there will be days when you’ll try too hard to conjure him up, and it won’t easily work, on occasion. But that’s not time, or erosion, it’s just trying too hard.

    And these parts of you will simply never fade. They’re fixed, and immutable. Thank goodness they are.

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