Tuesday, August 30, 2011

And The Beat Goes On . . .

No no, I'm not composing a suicide note. This scene, though, from Beetlejuice, often bubbles up to my consciousness when I'm thinking about how sad I am. Like, what else can I say? I'm really sad, my daughter is dead, she's never coming back, let me write about it, I'm really sad . . .

You know? I'm like a freaking broken record. That scene up there is ridiculous, as is that whole movie (" . . . having jumped plummeted to my death . . . ").  And when I'm looking for news ways to say how sad I am, or how hard living without Calla is, or how someone doesn't get it, I feel like Lydia Deetz writing the perfect ending.

It just sucks sometimes.

Ahem, all the time. The hurt heals over, but it's never all the way gone, and then I start picking and picking and picking at it until it's in full-bore ouch.

Like when I found myself sobbing at a wedding this weekend during the father-daughter dance. Never mind their song was Landslide:

Fortunately I have a short attention span so when I found this cool dyson hand dryer vortex thingy in the bathroom, I was amused enough to regain my composure.

Anyway. The little things, the big things, life . . . everything and anything reminds me of her. Of her missing.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.


  1. Oh . . . Landslide . . . combined with father-daughter dance. Ouch. Very ouchy indeed. Glad that the dyson hand dryer vortex thing came to your aid.

    I often feel like I am simply repeating myself too.

  2. Wow, I would have been a puddle. I doubt I would have made it to the bathroom. As far as the repeating ourselves - what else is there to do? I feel like if I stop I will forget and then he will really, really be gone. I'm the only one that remembers (not really, but it feels that way) so I have to be the guardian of the flame.

  3. I think we need to repeat ourselves. And sometimes we need to take a break and then go back and say things a little differently but repeat ourselves all over again.

  4. Oh Mary Beth I know. I don't really think this ever gets easier. We just get further away from the day it all happened, that's all. It still hurts just as fucking much. And along the way, we find a million new ways to say the same thing. Over and over again.
    You are a broken record. And so am I. We're both in this suck parade together. For good.
    Love to you my dear.

  5. Yep- the suck parade. :). I am 2 months away from Camille's death and I already feel like I'm repeating myself over and over. How many ways can we find to say how much we miss and wish and love and hurt??? Every time we say it no matter the repetition we mean it with the same amount of want FOREVER!

  6. I haven't even really started processing father daughter dances! Ugh it's one punch after another!!!