The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
- Craig Grant
- Sep 17, 2019
- 7 min read
9/17/19
It's amazing how time has that way of creeping up on you, or maybe creeping past you. I can't believe it's been two months since I've last posted. Not quite writer's block, but I guess just for once I didn't know what to say. I was just "said out".
A lot has happened, actually, and as the title of my post suggests, life has once again run the gamut and can be summed up in a song title. Yes, it was a movie of course, but the song always kind of haunted me, and I still own the 45 somewhere. Actually, that's not true; I know exactly where it is, cohabiting with my other 45s in a box in my basement on a shelf, mingling with The Beatles, Dusty (how apropos) Springfield, War, Nilson, Three Dog Night and a couple hundred more of artists running from significant to one-hit-wonders to the just plain old embarrassment that I actually own them.
Being raised in a primarily conservative, pessimistic Jewish household, I'll start with the bad and the sad and the whoa is me. Feel free to skip ahead if you've had a bummer of a day already- I understand- Don't Bring Me Down Bruce.
August 22nd was the one-year "anniversary" of Abby's passing. It was a date that you don't want to make, nor celebrate, nor show up for, nor circle on the calendar, nor, nor, nor, nor. But it was a date that was inevitable, one that you can't run away from, one that will find you no matter where you hide out. There aren't enough bed sheets in the world that you can pull over your head to keep it away. Honestly though, that was never the way I was going to handle it, despite having all of those previous notions ping-ponging around my head. I discussed it with Ben (who had already moved to LA- see the paragraph where I discuss "The Good", or at least "The Good for Ben") and Aliza, and some close friends who just physically and mentally wanted to be there for me. Ultimately, it came down to WWAD, or "What Would Abby Do", or want I suppose. And just like her "Celebration of Life" that we had, that's what we wanted to do, Celebrate Her Life, not her death. Easier said then done of course, and not without tears and some sadness and some what ifs. But in general it was ok, and I tried hard not to drink Tito's straight from the bottle, especially since I was sharing, and my friends like me, maybe even love me, but don't want me to necessarily sup from the same spout. Straws please. But I survived, though another small piece of me sloughed off I think. It's kind of like erosion- maybe a rock splits or loses a chunk after getting tossed up on the beach. It's never really the same again, but eventually time, ocean and the tides smooth it out. It's still a rock, but it's just... different.
How do I make this next transition? Unfortunately, I'm still stuck in the Bad and Ugly sales department, and I don't mean to sound so flippant here, but my brother Scott passed away last week. I just don't know how to couch that statement except by blurting it out. For those who didn't know, he'd been battling cancer for the past 4 years, and it was just his time. No, it really wasn't his time, (nor was it Abby's). It's just that there were no more things that could be done, no Publishing Clearinghouse of Miracles knocking at the hospital door. It's horrible seeing the people you love get sick, and then fighting, and then getting sicker, and still fighting. You want it to end so badly- not their lives of course, but their suffering; you want them back the way they were, or at least in a way that they can live their life somehow. You want them ALIVE. And then you don't get that. It's robbery, but of the highest crime. Your loved one is stolen from you, and there's no solving the crime, no apprehension of the thief, and the case never gets solved or closed. You may know the Who, What, Where, When and How, but never The WHY. I have another fresh hole in my life and while that wasn't meant to be a metaphor, I suppose it gruesomely is. Love you Scott, and I miss you already. And Abby, I still, and will always, miss you. I just hope you're up there somewhere, showing Scott the proverbial ropes.
Hey Craig, where's the GOOD, the happy faces, the smiling emojis? There is GOOD actually. In reference to my brother, I was fortunate enough to spend 4 days with him a few weeks ago when he was still lucid and could chat and laugh and smile a bit. We told stories we had forgotten about. We told stories that no one had ever heard before. And I got to spend some great bonding time with my nephews and niece and their spouses and my grand-nieces. I hope that they enjoyed the time with me as much as I enjoyed spending time with them, and I hope that in this shitty thing we all experienced, that it will bring us together closer as a family, and that we get to know each other that much better, despite the 1,500 mile difference. Maybe not a silver lining, but maybe a bronze one, and I'll take it. Some more GOOD, if you can stand it? While my personal life may still be in shambles and a train wreck of what it used to be (just like the MBTA), my professional life, formerly known for the last 2 years as "My So-Called-Professional-Life", has actually taken on a tinge of well, professionalism, as in "I'm working (mostly) again". In July, I started working a temp, part-time contract at Harvard as a Senior Designer, working from home, except for an occasional on-site meeting, 15-20hrs/week. I'm filling in for someone who's on medical leave - she has cancer, but it sounds treatable, and she was super nice, and I wish her a speedy recovery. Just can't seem to get away from cancer though; it's like there's a cancer mugger out there, waiting around every corner and in every dark nook and cranny just to keep me on my toes and go "Boo". I also hooked up with a new client, through someone who used to work with Abby (thank you Donna!), and they've been giving me some steady work too, also working at home. And I've been onsite for a couple of well-known ad guys who now run a small agency in Seaport- really nice people, just not easy to get to from Swampscott unfortunately- planes, trains and automobiles- hour and a half each way. But not complaining- just happy to be working and being creative again, doing some good work, and of course making money. Not out of the woods yet, but finding some firm footing at least. I hope all that, along with teaching my two night classes at Emerson, that I can cobble together a living. And I thank EVERYONE who has reached out to me in my job search- I still hope to latch onto a full-time gig at some point, but at least I'm still able to get my health insurance through Emerson.
I'm now officially alone and an empty-nester I guess, as Ben finally made his escape to LA about a month or so ago. He and Dani did their best Beverly Hillbillies impersonation and packed the car and a Thule to the gills. Whatever fit went, so basically no furniture, just clothes, all of Ben's camera/lighting gear, computers, Quentin (Ben's blue-tongued skink), a TV (I think) and off they went. True explorers. Of course explorers didn't have Ikea, Wayfair or Home Depot. Nor did they have a pool, health club, rec room, screening room, or dog walking services at their fingertips. They'll be joined by another couple, and one other single friend, mostly all friends from MassArt. Three bedrooms, two baths, brand new place. No first month, last month, or full-month realty fee. $600 to hold the place, and a free month's rent to boot, 6 months free wifi and cable. It sure ain't Boston. Good for them; your dollar goes a lot further in LA, at least when it comes to renting a place.
I moved Aliza a couple of weeks ago from Mission Hill to Southie, along with 70,000 other lucky Bostonians and non-Bostonians alike. I'd forgotten how much fun it was driving a rental truck, moving your child, battling for parking, and squeezing oversized furniture through anal-sized cavities. And banging the crap out of your arms and legs. Ouchy. But it's a really nice place, cheaper, and she has a great room. She's really close to the Andrew Sq. T stop, so makes it easy for her to get the Charlestown Navy Yard, where MGH Institute of Health Professionals has it's campus (and they run a shuttle bus every 15 mins.) So her grad school education has begun, and I figure I'll be lucky to see her by oh, Thanksgiving- hopefully she'll still be able to stand upright from the weight of her course load and working. Ahh- to be young again. Actually, no thanks, been there and done that and except for the ability to be somewhat physically pain-free, I'm happy to not have a redo of my younger angst in the pants.
Finally, I've decided that loneliness is a funny thing. Sometimes I'm happy to embrace it and roll with it; other times it just guts you and rips a hole through your heart and leaves you writhing on the ground. I'm never sure which version is going to show up on any given day- it's such a crap shoot. That's what makes it so hard I think, to have this uninvited guest show up willy-nilly, whenever it feels like it, and behave however it damn well wants. I'm learning to try and live alongside of it for now, get along and go along. I truly hope for a brighter future, whatever that means for me, and I'll do what I can to make it happen. I just need to stay out of the darkness for awhile, a very long while. You see, I'm not afraid of the dark at all, I'm just really, really, really sick of it.
Love to you all, and I appreciate every one of you.
Comments