I don’t sing the lyrics, but I do hum along as I pick out the notes. I only stop when a tear lands on the top of my thumb.
I can’t breathe.
I can only hang my head, my fingertips falling off the strings, and try not to die from feeling, well, all these fucking feelings.
Mom, I wish I could call you.
I wish I could hear your voice and see your eyes light up when you smile.
I wish we could be together again, all seven of us, and talk about everything and nothing over the King Ranch casserole you’d make. The one with the corn tortillas and chicken and cheese? God, that was good. We all loved it so much there’d never be any leftovers even though you’d double the recipe.
Remember that, Mom? Because I do.
My heart feels bruised, like it’s been run over and left for dead.
It’s too much.
This is all too fucking much.
This is what I was worried about. I’m sitting with my grief, and it is absolutely kicking my ass.
I start to play again, only because I don’t know what else to do. The stuff inside me is too big and too heavy to keep inside, so I let it out note by note with my fingertips.
Now I’m playing a sad Brooks & Dunn song—“You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone.” And while I feel sad playing it—and angry and lonely and drained—when I’m done, I feel…
No better. But lighter, maybe? Like I can breathe a little easier.
Shit, I just survived something, didn’t I?
I just connected with feelings—a side of myself—I’ve had closed off, and I didn’t die.
I just took a swan dive into the grief I haven’t let myself feel in more than a decade, and playing my guitar from middle school, of all things, is what kept me from drowning in pain.
What in the world?Can simply acknowledging your feelings make them less terrifying?
Cash always says the universe is one sick motherfucker. I believe him now.
Billie, this is all your fault.She’s the one who put the idea ofconnectionin my head. She’s the one who had me humming songs and being playful and wanting…I don’t know, wanting to feelmorethan mostly numb.
I do not feel numb right now.
Flattened? Yes.
Exhausted and terrified and lost? Yes, yes, andyes.
But I gotta give credit where credit is due. Billie was onto something here. What if I kept playing?
What if I leaned into this instead of running scared?
You risk even more pain. More loss.No big deal.
My life—it’s good enough, right? I don’t gotta open myself up to all this shit to do my job and keep my family’s legacy alive.
But you do need to open up if you wanna be free, truly and deeply free. The way Billie was in the arena.
And the thought of living the rest of my life holed up in this weird little fortress I’ve built, safe but never free, distanced from everyone, distanced frommyself?—
My center spasms.
