Rainbow sleeve
Jul. 24th, 2005 05:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynThis weekend I got a lovely note from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zebra363, who has sent me some of the loveliest notes about my Mag 7 fic that I've ever had and at a time when I really needed a kind word or two. She told me that she had planted a tree in my sister's honor, on her property in western Australia -- a lemon-scented gum tree. Sis_r had wanted to travel to Oz and New Zealand very badly, and had been planning a trip with her friends before she got sick. A lifelong desire to go there (which both of us shared) was kicked into high gear last spring when she took her first really big trip, to Europe, and the travel bug had bitten her bad. So something very Australian, and citrus-scented (which she loved) was incredibly appropriate. Zebra363 also tells me that after they finished planting, a rainbow appeared -- and she sent me the photograph of the rainbow, as well as a picture of the tree.
I can't even express how touched I was by that. I've had a really bad week grief-wise, for some reason, and have been feeling very much alone lately, so it was perfect timing. It's hard, harder than I ever thought possible, to go on in the world when it seems like no one immediately nearby notices or cares what's happened, when people are in the same room and act as if nothing is different, as if you're the same as you were before. There are only a couple people in day to day life who ever ask me how I am, and almost no one asks me about my sister. I was tellingfeochadn the other night that it's as if she didn't exist, and her death never happened. For most people, she didn't really, and so they look at me like it's just business as usual -- it's only because they know me that they know what happened. It's abstract for them, which is natural. But it's just so hard to go on about my life, to talk to people and be normal and talk, walk, shop, and sneeze. So the fact that someone I've only met electronically, halfway across the world, would think of that, and make such a large and lovely gesture, really makes me emotional, because someone did think of my sister, did think of me. I get these lovely cards from gattagrigia and she sends me these sweet little gifts to let me know she hasn't forgetten, and they speak larger volumes than I'm sure even she realizes. It's like having someone wave a flag and say, she was here, and I know you miss her.
My dad doesn't talk about stuff, there's really no one left in the family... sometimes I just want to say, hey, you know, she was a person, and she was here and now she's gone, and it's not like it didn't happen. But that's the hardest part about not having much family -- those aspects of your life are invisible to the rest of the world around you, and so once the initial trauma is gone, for most people who know you, it's gone all the way. It's not that people don't know you lost something or someone, but they don't see it daily, they see you there and in one piece and think everything must be the same. And we feel obligated to pretend it is. We're strong and upright and whatever. Weirdly, it's my online friends who have been most solicitous, even though many of them have never met me.
Unsolicited advice if you're dealing with someone who's grieving or going through a hard time. Don't tell them that the person is in a better place, don't tell them that person or pet's suffering is over, or that it takes time to heal (duh!) or any other explanation. The simplest words are the most profound, and the most necessary: I'm so sorry, or I'm thinking about you. Don't demand that someone who's grieving tell you what to do to help them, because I can guarantee you, they can't or won't or both. Picking up the phone to "just call" you is probably next to impossible for them, being able to ask for favors is also likely to be a longshot. Sometimes they don't even know what they want or need -- you need to call them. You need to ask how they are. And if you're afraid you don't know what to say or do? No one does. That's why the simplest things are the most important -- the "I'm sorry" and "I'm thinking of you" and the quickie phone call or email to check in on them from time to time. Because everyone feels awkward about death and loss, even people who've gone through it. And from time to time, just ask that person how they are; if they can't talk about it, you will know, and if they can, they will be grateful for question. Because even if it meant little to you, even if it's abstract and doesn't affect your life, a simple acknowledgement that you know they feel down can make all the difference in the world and keep someone from feeling like they've been forgotten, or that the one they loved has disappeared. And if you ask, give them time to answer; don't do what someone did to me last year at Vividcon, asking me how I was after finding out my sister had cancer, and then walking away to talk to someone better when I started to tell them how shaky I felt. My ex used to whine about how uncomfortable he felt, how he couldn't handle death and sickness. And I told him: You know what? For once in your life, It's Not About You.
Trust me, it doesn't take a lot to make a grieving person feel a tiny bit better. You don't necessarily have to plant a tree, because few gestures will be that meaningful and lovely, but when you never say anything, when you pretend that nothing has happened, when you never, ever speak about it to the person who's lost someone? They notice. And there is nothing lonelier in the world than feeling so empty, and feeling like no one on earth has noticed that. Sooner or later we all go through loss, and when you're not there for the people you care about, how do you know they will be there for you?
The beautiful picture of the rainbow over my sister's tree reminded me of one of my favorite songs; it was written by Tom Waits and performed by his then-wife Rickie Lee Jones on the soundtrack to the King of Comedy. It's called Rainbow Sleeve, and I have been singing it a lot in my head (not that I can hit Rickie's high notes at all). Here's an AAC file of it, please right click to download -- the fidelity is a little off because it's from an old album that gattagrigia's husband kindly made me a copy of.
You used to dream yourself away each night
To places that you'd never been
On wings made of wishes
That you whispered to yourself
Back when every night the moon and you
Would sweep away to places
That you knew
Where you would never get the blues
Well now, whiskey gives you wings
To carry each one of your dreams
And the moon does not belong to you
But I believe that your heart
Keeps young dreams
Well, I've been told
To keep from ever growing old
And a heart that has been broken
Will be stronger when it mends
Don't let the blues stop you singing
Darlin', you've only got a broken wing
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow sleeve
zebra363, who has sent me some of the loveliest notes about my Mag 7 fic that I've ever had and at a time when I really needed a kind word or two. She told me that she had planted a tree in my sister's honor, on her property in western Australia -- a lemon-scented gum tree. Sis_r had wanted to travel to Oz and New Zealand very badly, and had been planning a trip with her friends before she got sick. A lifelong desire to go there (which both of us shared) was kicked into high gear last spring when she took her first really big trip, to Europe, and the travel bug had bitten her bad. So something very Australian, and citrus-scented (which she loved) was incredibly appropriate. Zebra363 also tells me that after they finished planting, a rainbow appeared -- and she sent me the photograph of the rainbow, as well as a picture of the tree.I can't even express how touched I was by that. I've had a really bad week grief-wise, for some reason, and have been feeling very much alone lately, so it was perfect timing. It's hard, harder than I ever thought possible, to go on in the world when it seems like no one immediately nearby notices or cares what's happened, when people are in the same room and act as if nothing is different, as if you're the same as you were before. There are only a couple people in day to day life who ever ask me how I am, and almost no one asks me about my sister. I was telling
feochadn the other night that it's as if she didn't exist, and her death never happened. For most people, she didn't really, and so they look at me like it's just business as usual -- it's only because they know me that they know what happened. It's abstract for them, which is natural. But it's just so hard to go on about my life, to talk to people and be normal and talk, walk, shop, and sneeze. So the fact that someone I've only met electronically, halfway across the world, would think of that, and make such a large and lovely gesture, really makes me emotional, because someone did think of my sister, did think of me. I get these lovely cards from gattagrigia and she sends me these sweet little gifts to let me know she hasn't forgetten, and they speak larger volumes than I'm sure even she realizes. It's like having someone wave a flag and say, she was here, and I know you miss her.My dad doesn't talk about stuff, there's really no one left in the family... sometimes I just want to say, hey, you know, she was a person, and she was here and now she's gone, and it's not like it didn't happen. But that's the hardest part about not having much family -- those aspects of your life are invisible to the rest of the world around you, and so once the initial trauma is gone, for most people who know you, it's gone all the way. It's not that people don't know you lost something or someone, but they don't see it daily, they see you there and in one piece and think everything must be the same. And we feel obligated to pretend it is. We're strong and upright and whatever. Weirdly, it's my online friends who have been most solicitous, even though many of them have never met me.
Unsolicited advice if you're dealing with someone who's grieving or going through a hard time. Don't tell them that the person is in a better place, don't tell them that person or pet's suffering is over, or that it takes time to heal (duh!) or any other explanation. The simplest words are the most profound, and the most necessary: I'm so sorry, or I'm thinking about you. Don't demand that someone who's grieving tell you what to do to help them, because I can guarantee you, they can't or won't or both. Picking up the phone to "just call" you is probably next to impossible for them, being able to ask for favors is also likely to be a longshot. Sometimes they don't even know what they want or need -- you need to call them. You need to ask how they are. And if you're afraid you don't know what to say or do? No one does. That's why the simplest things are the most important -- the "I'm sorry" and "I'm thinking of you" and the quickie phone call or email to check in on them from time to time. Because everyone feels awkward about death and loss, even people who've gone through it. And from time to time, just ask that person how they are; if they can't talk about it, you will know, and if they can, they will be grateful for question. Because even if it meant little to you, even if it's abstract and doesn't affect your life, a simple acknowledgement that you know they feel down can make all the difference in the world and keep someone from feeling like they've been forgotten, or that the one they loved has disappeared. And if you ask, give them time to answer; don't do what someone did to me last year at Vividcon, asking me how I was after finding out my sister had cancer, and then walking away to talk to someone better when I started to tell them how shaky I felt. My ex used to whine about how uncomfortable he felt, how he couldn't handle death and sickness. And I told him: You know what? For once in your life, It's Not About You.
Trust me, it doesn't take a lot to make a grieving person feel a tiny bit better. You don't necessarily have to plant a tree, because few gestures will be that meaningful and lovely, but when you never say anything, when you pretend that nothing has happened, when you never, ever speak about it to the person who's lost someone? They notice. And there is nothing lonelier in the world than feeling so empty, and feeling like no one on earth has noticed that. Sooner or later we all go through loss, and when you're not there for the people you care about, how do you know they will be there for you?
The beautiful picture of the rainbow over my sister's tree reminded me of one of my favorite songs; it was written by Tom Waits and performed by his then-wife Rickie Lee Jones on the soundtrack to the King of Comedy. It's called Rainbow Sleeve, and I have been singing it a lot in my head (not that I can hit Rickie's high notes at all). Here's an AAC file of it, please right click to download -- the fidelity is a little off because it's from an old album that gattagrigia's husband kindly made me a copy of.
You used to dream yourself away each night
To places that you'd never been
On wings made of wishes
That you whispered to yourself
Back when every night the moon and you
Would sweep away to places
That you knew
Where you would never get the blues
Well now, whiskey gives you wings
To carry each one of your dreams
And the moon does not belong to you
But I believe that your heart
Keeps young dreams
Well, I've been told
To keep from ever growing old
And a heart that has been broken
Will be stronger when it mends
Don't let the blues stop you singing
Darlin', you've only got a broken wing
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow sleeve
