April 27.... again. Still.
Happy birthday, Jeanne Michele.
This time last year, you were lying on the sick bed, in the living room. I put up pictures of Walt Disney Land, and played the CD I made of Disney songs, and gave you microwave corndogs. Your favorite food, from your favorite place. Or as close as I could get you to it.
Remember how bad they smelled? Remember? You didn’t eat them – well, only one bite. And the pictures fell down all the time. I kept digging around behind the bed to grab them and put them back up.
Ok, so I forgot to get good tape! Who knew that scotch tape wouldn’t stick to the walls?
You smiled at me. You weren’t feeling well, but you smiled. We talked the trip we made to Disneyland. It was nice.
The year before last was a more fun birthday. We went to the city. First, we went to Asia SF. The food was ok, but the show was … terrific. Then we went to see that band I like, with our friends. You were all dressed up – or undressed up, I should say. And that drunken guy thought our friend was a dealer, remember? You laughed, and danced, and giggled all night.
Not now.
Happy birthday, Jeanne Michele.
This time last year, you were lying on the sick bed, in the living room. I put up pictures of Walt Disney Land, and played the CD I made of Disney songs, and gave you microwave corndogs. Your favorite food, from your favorite place. Or as close as I could get you to it.
Remember how bad they smelled? Remember? You didn’t eat them – well, only one bite. And the pictures fell down all the time. I kept digging around behind the bed to grab them and put them back up.
Ok, so I forgot to get good tape! Who knew that scotch tape wouldn’t stick to the walls?
You smiled at me. You weren’t feeling well, but you smiled. We talked the trip we made to Disneyland. It was nice.
The year before last was a more fun birthday. We went to the city. First, we went to Asia SF. The food was ok, but the show was … terrific. Then we went to see that band I like, with our friends. You were all dressed up – or undressed up, I should say. And that drunken guy thought our friend was a dealer, remember? You laughed, and danced, and giggled all night.
Not now.
Happy birthday, Jeanne Michele.
posted by Douglas at
9:05 AM
3 Comments:
I'm very sorry for your loss; there are a few of us at JR's previous company who read your blog regularly and have gotten to know her; it's heartbreaking and bittersweet and I thank you for sharing you with us.
By
Anonymous, at 6:05 PM
By the way, what do you mean, really, by "The Other End of Sunset"? Sunrise? Noon? Or everything supposedly unaware; maybe I’m reading too much into this (?). On another note, we're all on this ephemeral journey, sincerely, truly, humbly, not to be crude, but we are, one way or another, on a journey destined to end in death; from the time we are born our days are numbered. It is a miracle you found someone so worthy of your love, and to love so deeply, for better and for worse...
By
Marilena (aka "Lena"), at 9:05 PM
@lena: I think I described why the name exists in a VERY early post, but I can't find it now that I look for it. The phrase comes from when I lived in LA -- I lived on Sunset Boulevard. No, the OTHER end of Sunset, not in Hollywood. But it also means the coming of dawn, and at the same time the arrival of darkness, and ... well, many other things. It's complex, and open to interpretation. And discussion. thanks for chiming in!
By
Douglas, at 7:42 PM
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