Our plane went down
There’s a Jason Mraz song called “Plane” that I think is beautiful, and really sad. I always thought it was sad, but it’s only gotten sadder since A passed. It’s about leaving your loved one behind as you get on a plane to go wherever it is you have to go. I sent the lyrics to A once, telling him that this was how I felt every time we said goodbye.
Drain the veins in my head
clean out the reds in my eyes to get by security lines
dear x-ray machine
pretend you don’t know me so well
I won’t tell if you lie
cry, ‘cause the drought’s been brought up
drinkin’ cause you’re lookin’ so good in your Starbucks cup
I complain for the company that I keep
the window’s for sleeping rearrange
well I’m nobody
well who’s laughin’ now
I’m leaving your town again
and I’m over the ground that you’ve been spinning
and I’m up in the air, said baby hell yeah
well honey I can see your house from here
if the plane goes down, damn
well I’ll remember where the love was found
if the plane goes down, damn
damn, I should be so lucky
even only 24 hours under your touch
you know I need you so much
I cannot wait to call you
and tell you that I landed somewhere
and hand you a square of the airport
and walk you through the maze of the map
that I’m gazing at
gracefully unnamed and feeling guilty for the luck
and the look that you gave me
you make me somebody
oh nobody knows me
not even me can see it, yet I bet I’m
leaving your town again
and I’m over the ground that you’ve spinning
and I’m up in the air, said baby hell yeah
well honey I can see your house from here
if the plane goes down, damn
I’ll remember where the love was found
if the plane goes down, damn
keep me high minded
you keep me high
flax seeds, well they tear me open
and supposedly you could crawl right through me
taste these teeth please
and undress me from the sweaters better hurry
cause I’m keeping upward bound now
oh maybe I’ll build my house on your cloud
here I’m tumbling for you
stumbling through the work that I have to do
don’t mean to harm you
by leaving your town again
but I’m over the quilt that you’ve been spinning
and I’m up in the air, said baby hell yeah
oh honey I can see your house from here
if the plane goes down, damn
I’ll remember where the love was found
if the plane goes down, damn
I’ll remember where the love was found
if the plane goes down, damn
I’ll remember where the love was found
if the plane goes down, damn
damn, damn
damn you
you get me high
you keep me high minded
you get me high
you get me high minded
He told me that he didn’t feel sad about our partings, that he appreciated the time we had together, and knew that there would be more. He was always telling me we had a long road ahead of us, there was no rush. He was very Zen, very patient, more so than I. He didn’t cry at the airport, like I always did. I cried because I didn’t always know when we’d be together again. I cry now because I don’t know when we’ll be together again. I was the one who flew, and I figured mine would be the plane that would go down. And yet it was his, in a manner of speaking.
Our road wasn’t nearly as long as I’d hoped, as long as he’d said it would be. The last time I looked upon his face with my own eyes was at the airport, as he waiting outside security, and I craned my neck to keep him in view as long as I possibly could.
He lied to me. He didn’t do it on purpose; he didn’t know it’d be a lie. I’m not even angry at him; I’m angry at circumstances beyond our control. And I just want to tell him “I wasn’t silly to cry, to be sad at our parting. I knew, somehow, that every goodbye could be the last one.” It is the ugliest, most painful and difficult “I told you so” that ever was. I was right.
And I just hope that when my time comes, I will find out he was right, too.