Friday night
Friday night I went to open mic, as (mostly) usual. An acquaintance of mine, also a regular, had missed last week, and the hostess had told us that his sister had died and he’d had to leave town. He’s an odd duck, this one, but over time I’ve learned that he’s really not a bad guy, and I felt sad for him. He, too, is in his 50s, so I would guess his sister is, too. Too young.
Anyway, he was arriving just as the hostess and I were, and he held the door for us. I got settled with my friends, signed up for my time slot, confirmed with the hostess that in fact it was this guy whose sister had passed, and then made my way over there to offer my sympathy.
We ended up talking for awhile, and he told me a lot about his sister, and I recognized in him that need to tell the story. It was all so new for him; I was actually surprised to see him there, ready to perform, after only a week. It was well over a month before I could even think about going back, and when I did, it was a disaster: too soon. So it was 2 more months before I tried it again.
I probably talked to him for 10-15 minutes; he seemed to really appreciate that I asked. I couldn’t imagine not doing so. Since A died, and I watched the world retreat from my grief at a pace that made my head spin, I have kind of made it my personal mission to acknowledge, and be there as much as I can for, other grievers. It seems the least I can do. It is such a lonely, difficult road, and seems to get lonelier by the day. Very few look back for you; eventually,you just decide to try to catch up with the rest of the world. Or not.
But after I went back to my chair, I didn’t see anyone else go over to talk to him, or offer condolences, though I know several regulars had heard the sad tale at the same time I did the week before. I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed in them in a general way. Just more of the same. I know that people don’t know what to say, but to not even acknowledge it? That is cruelty through cowardice, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe they did when I wasn’t looking. I’d like to think so; then again, I think I know better. Maybe it’s how you’re brought up. My parents are not prone to overt displays of emotion, but they always bought sympathy cards when they knew someone had lost a loved one; they always made the gesture. It takes so little to reach out, and means so much to the grieving person, and yet people can’t bring themselves to do it. I don’t get it.
It ended up being a pretty good night for me, after all. My performance went really well, which is a “win” I really, really needed, especially with a gig coming up Tuesday. I sat with my friends playing Scrabble, listened to the other performers, and worked on my embroidery while eating cookies. Such simple, old-fashioned pleasures, but I felt happy in the moment, like how I felt on the back of that motorcycle a few weeks back. I’m glad I could recognize the feeling.