You wont read that book again, because the ending’s just too hard to take…
I’m listening to the new (& hopefully last) Johnny Cash album while writing this, and it’s wobbling me on the inside, in ways that music just doesn’t usually. There’s this dynamic of death & love, coupled with a weakness & helplessness, that really kicks to death all the bits of me that think they know what life is about (Cash had just lost his wonderful June, and he’d die very soon). I feel VERY young and inexperienced and unknowing and unjaded, listening to this voice.
Got on my dead-man suit… I got a song to sing!
It’s a slightly recurring theme this week, as my sister & I were listening to John Bayley’s account of his wife (Iris Murdoch) as she went from being a fully functioning love-of-his-life to an Alzheimers-suffering care receiver. Heart-filling, and heart-breaking: it’s amazing the love in his words, but day by day, little by little, he was losing her a little bit more.
It’s hard to know: she’s gone forever. They’re carrying her home…
I don’t know what else to say. I don’t really feel sad or anything; I am being wobbled by the depth that life can have, I think. It makes me think about the reverence that some cultures still have for old people, wishing I ‘got that’ a bit more. I don’t even know how to listen! At a wedding in March, the bride & groom bowed to the wife’s parents (it’s a Korean thing); I didn’t get it, of course. But I’d really like to, y’know?
The tears and the laughter are things that we share,
Your hand in mine makes all times good.