It’s June. Another seven months have gone by without me writing on this blog.
Nineteen months ago, I wrote a post about how I hadn’t been writing any posts and the various reasons why: this blog has a very narrow mission statement, a lot of the stuff that happened didn’t fit into that mission statement, and some of the stuff might be harmful to friends and family if discussed in a public forum. I was going to contemplate whether or not it was worth it to continue the blog given those circumstances after the start of the new year, 2014.
Then 2014 went to hell in a handbasket.
For the most part, nothing bad happened to me or my immediate family, but someone I cared about lost someone they loved about once every five weeks. I say “for the most part” because even though we didn’t share the last name, Bobby was my brother in everything but blood – losing him felt like losing a member of the immediate family, a feeling shared by the rest of my immediate family; a feeling my immediate family still deals with today, a year later. You can’t mention Bobby without my mother crying. I’m still practicing talking about Bobby without crying myself.
My old workmate died. My old boss died. My cousin died. My adopted brother died. My friend’s mother died. My friend’s father died. Another friend’s mother died. My adopted brother’s sister died. My friend’s son died. My high school sweetheart’s husband died. I missed two funerals because I was already attended funerals; I missed one funeral because I was sitting in the ICU, waiting to see if my friend’s sister was going to wake up, knowing she never would. I wrote two obituaries. I wrote two eulogies. I officiated two funerals and two graveside services. I spent the night outside Houston so I could support a close friend at her husband’s memorial service. I spent a week visiting a close friend in Louisville so she would know she was not now nor would she ever be alone after losing her soulmate. I drove to Raleigh so I could share some love with my best buddy and his amazing family. I drove to Virginia Beach so I could honor a promise to sing at a wedding still deemed illegal in my friend’s home state.
Since the mission statement of this blog was about my quest to become a Rock Star, I didn’t write about the grieving process here, though I did on my Facebook page. I logged the anniversaries as they came by, one by one, marking the year since Bobby died and how I was personally dealing with his loss. I wrote about my High School sweetheart on her birthday, something I should have done long ago. I wrote about institutional misogyny. I wrote about Leonard Nimoy’s passing. I wrote about standing up for myself and losing my temp job as a result. I wrote about how the last question Bobby asked me was “Am I going to die?” and how it still feels like a lie that I said “No. Not your time.” I wrote about not being understood growing up, how I and my friends had to create a second family for ourselves so we’d feel like we belonged somewhere. I wrote about how holidays are supposed to be imperfect, it’s the imperfections that make the memories. I wrote about how my family stood up to be counted when bad things began to happen in rapid succession, and how thankful I was I could honestly say I was proud of them all. I wrote about how publicly stateing how proud I was of my family didn’t keep me from being chewed out by someone who had struck me out of their life months earlier. I wrote about how some folks seem to want to stay blissfully ignorant about the inequalities around them. I wrote about how proud I was of Emma Watson and her speech to the UN about Equality. I wrote about how, even though Bobby was gone and I’d finished laying him to rest, my job as his brother and advocate wasn’t over. I wrote about the week of Bobby’s death and his funeral, my attempt at keeping it together until all my work was all done, then finally, gratefully, being allowed to let go.
I did not write about my high school choir director passing away. I did not write about canceling our first band gig of the year. I did not write about canceling a month’s worth of rehearsals. I did not write about not recording any songs last summer. I did not write about these events even though they all fell in the purview of this blog as well as my Facebook page.
Those events weren’t just about me – those events also involved members of the band. Talking about my part was one thing, but writing about my bandmates, my friends, was something else entirely. They didn’t sign up to have their lives scrutinized under a microscope; so even though I was directly affected, I didn’t discuss it here or on my Facebook page – as far as the chronicle of my life is concerned, those events didn’t happen.
But the events did happen, and I am struck with a second conundrum beyond “Do I continue this blog?” If I do continue this blog, how do I reconcile the events I can’t discuss because doing so requires involving someone else’s role?
It’s June. My birthday is over. My trip to Raleigh and Virginia Beach is over. The weekend gig at The Rally In The Crater is over. The one year anniversary of Bobby’s death is over. Memorial Day is over. There’s no reason to keep this blog on hold any longer other than the questions posed above. And it’s time to start answering those questions, here, publicly and honestly. It’s also time to get my life back on track after the derailment that was the year 2014.
Operation: Rock Star 2.0 starts today.