Friday Things // 12.11.2020

The one evermore.

Long story short it was a bad time.

Long story short I survived. ( -“Long Story Short,” Taylor Swift)

Welp, friends — I’m late sending this today. Let’s blame Taylor Swift, shall we? 😜

This will likely come as no surprise to anyone reading this, but I’m a big TSwift fan. Her music has always resonated with me, and has often come out in perfect symphony with things happening in my own life. I remember joking with one of my best friends shortly after a bad break-up in my 20s that it was like Taylor was secretly observing my life and then recording songs that matched my trials and tribulations.

As a writer, I have a thing about words and powerful lyrics. This has surprised my husband because I also listen to, you know, Britney Spears and other Top 40, but in my defense ((I have none … okay, sorry, had to -- IYKYK)), I just love music of all kinds, especially with a strong beat. But — BUT — my favorite songs are the ones that have lyrics that rock you to your core. The ones that really say something, and that you can take and make your own, pasting on top of the memories in your head, or in real time when you’re struggling (or celebrating!) that messiness of life.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but Taylor’s “Folklore” album dropped at midnight on Friday, July 24, literally just a couple of hours after I’d talked to my mom for what ended up being the last time ever, and shortly before I found out she’d ended up being intubated (i.e., put on a ventilator…woof, heavy stuff for this email, I know). I listened to almost the entire album on a run that morning before we drove to Las Vegas to see her, periodically pausing to sob in the middle of the road, hands on my thighs, head bent down. As she laid dying that Sunday, I kept hearing, “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” on repeat in my head, and after she was gone, “Folklore” kept me afloat (along with my incredible best friends) for weeks.

And so, that album, is forever ingrained in my heart alongside the ugly milestone I passed this year. You can then imagine my surprise when I learned Taylor was dropping another album in 2020 — “Evermore,” another midnight release. I would be lying if I didn’t admit, as silly as this may sound, that I got nervous knowing, superstitious that it meant someone else I loved was going to be ripped away from me last night. I forced myself to stay up and listen to the album, as if that would somehow erase any possible curse.

Illogical, I know. But so has been much of this year.

Not that this email is meant to be a review of “Evermore,” but I will say the album is a lot more … well, positive is probably the wrong word, but perhaps more optimistic than “Folklore.” Or hopeful? It sounds, to me, like when you’ve been through an incredible struggle or faced hurdle after hurdle, and suddenly you can see that the path ahead looks clearer. You realize you have made it through. You made it, despite it all. Not quite celebrating or dancing from the rooftops yet maybe, but catching your breath, noticing you can see the light coming through. With the exception, I suppose, of “Marjorie,” at the very end of the album, which caused me to unexpectedly bawl at midnight.

In that song, Taylor’s (allegedly) talking about her grandmother, but the lyrics reminded me of my mom, and rang true to a conversation I’d had earlier that day.

Not that you all want to dive deep into the trenches of my psyche, but I have been worrying that I’ve done too good of a job recently of compartmentalizing my grief — a skill I’ve historically been terrible at, til now apparently. My mom’s birthday was Wednesday, and all in all, it was a fine day. But I’ve been having trouble * feeling * my mom’s presence, or… just being unsure whether or not she could hear me, or was still somehow with me. And I’ve felt as if there was an hourglass stalking me, the sand draining faster than I could grasp the connection I’ve been looking for. In other words, I’ve felt like I’m running out of time to more clearly feel my mom with me — as if there’s a window of opportunity that is going to close any second now. I have no idea where that assumption came from, but it’s been working in the background of my mind for a while now, and as I explained this to my grief counselor, she said something that shook me.

She said, essentially, that my mom was already gone. The worst is over. She can’t be taken away from me twice.

Obvious? Sure, but for some reason, that hit me hard. A dose of reality, and I realized that’s exactly what my actual fear was… that I was failing to do what I needed to bring her back. That maybe, if I tried hard enough and reignited that connection we had in life, I could undo her leaving me. And that being unable to * feel * her the way I think I should — whatever the hell that means — means I’ll somehow forget her and she’ll be gone forever. As if there is still a chance she isn’t actually gone forever — like she’s just waiting in a stalled elevator, and if I can just do better, try harder, pretend otherwise, she’ll return.

But, she’s already gone. Physically, at least. She can’t be taken away from me again, not in one month, not in 12 weeks, not in 10 years.

Why am I sharing this? Because even if you have not lost someone important this year, or ever, there’s probably SOMETHING that you’ve been struggling with — something you’re afraid to run out of time on, or mess up a second time, or that you lost and you think you can change the past. Undo that trauma.

I’m sorry to say we can’t change the past, and we can’t turn this bus around and redo 2020. But there’s no right way to handle however you’re feeling or whatever you’re struggling with. There’s no correct way to grieve, regardless of what you’re grieving over. And we’ll never forget the people and places and things that have left a mark on our soul…. even if we can’t be with them in person right now — temporarily or forever — we will never forget how they made us feel. And that’s what matters the most… not the details that we may be so scared to let slip from our memory. It’s the warmth, the love, the peace. That’ll stay, friends, no matter how the year ends.

Sending love and light your way — I’m here for you.

Happy Friday! And let me know how you’re liking (or not 😅) these emails, would ya?

Joelle

P.S. Did I ever imagine I’d be devoting over 1,000 words to my dedication to Taylor Swift lyrics? Nope, definitely not, but here we are.