My Dad never said things like “that looks gay” or anything, and as a NASA scientist he wasn’t a Man’s Man or anything, but he definitely would point out things that I would do or mannerisms I had and would complain “well, that’s not really how a man should sit / stand / look”. And my mom had a couple of laments as well. She liked my long hair and long nails because she hadn’t gotten a daughter, but she ingrained me with plenty of feelings about my feelings.
And so I absolutely feel weird about admitting to fragility. A friend of mine, dealing with his own losses, mentioned the word a couple of days ago and it’s something that, in truth, I’m often on the edge of. I usually think of it as Dark Thoughts – less defined than real invasive thoughts of action – just the moments of BREAKING that lead you to tears and dysfunction. The moments where it’s all too much and you can’t cope and you snap. My dad showed me that breaking like that should be expressed in anger and I grew up chaneling it first into violence and then later art and guitar, but now and again it’s tears. And I can feel it lurking like a physical THING, weighing on my heart, pushing on the backs of my eyes.
I think the first time I became aware of it as like, a “trauma response” (?) was post 9/11. Before I had to delve into a memory. A car crash, worrying that I’d almost killed a friend, worrying that I HAD killed someone. I had to think it through and almost relive the thought. Relive the memory. But 9/11 was the first thing that stuck with me in such a way that it would absolutely blindside me with an invasive emotional state, bringing on sudden crying.
After my father died, strangely it wasn’t generally his death that would bring on these flashes, but things that I entangled with them. Guilt over pets. Trust issues. But these were all flashes, moments. Not a steady, ongoing feeling of glasslike fragility.
Last night at the open mic was a particularly LIGHT night. Not in population, we had a FANTASTIC list, but in feel. It was just… heartfelt and joyous and beautiful. I’ve been gone from that crowd for over a month and it felt really, really good to be welcomed back, even IF my father would’ve been HORRIFED by the “going down on daddy” welcome home song…
It was a welcome reprieve from the steady grind on the album, from the stress of trying to get my mother’s house ready for sale, the dread of the world at large and in general. All of this has made me feel like a creature of crystal, ready and waiting to be shattered.
And the feels were lifted… but I came home to news of Tim Kaye’s death and all of it comes slamming back. Dolly Parton, Peter Cullen, Tim Curry – all of these are cultural icons – but Tim was a local piano player who I enjoyed but didn’t know very well. He would come out to Teavolve every once in a while and was mostly a friend of friends, but was one of those people on the edge of our community who was probably a great deal BIGGER than I knew or gave him credit for being. Great piano player, great singer; he had a fascinating Disney-villain scar through one eye that gave him implications of mystery.
And my friend just found him dead. I don’t want to read more about it yet. “Brief illness” and “sudden death” are usually codewords, but for what? I have no idea.
In the past year, with Terry’s cancer, my mom’s madness, Kristen’s dad’s Difficulties, our friends and fans who are ill or aging, constant visits to Heartlands Senior Living Facility campus, Rowan’s father’s sudden death, the acknowledged decline of Biden, the hidden decline of Trump, it feels like the entire world wants to hammer into me “do not grow old!” But the sudden, shocking death of Tim Kaye isn’t any more appealing. Shock and the outpouring of grief in the local Baltimore music community and then back to the grind.
I kiss Kristen good bye as she goes to a gig, casually dancing with death as she navigates two beltways and an interstate, I’m constantly in danger of losing myself to mourning, not being able to feel the presence of the present for fear of what’s next.
That’s the fragility. The feeling that I can’t cope with the weight of the wait.
I last saw Tim on May 13th, 2019, hosting him at Teavolve in Baltimore, MD. https://ilyaimy.com/2019/05/13/may-13th-2019-2/
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