Shadows of life and death

I’m working on a new playlist and a couple reviews of great books I read recently. That will be out by next week. I also have some questions out to a great New England artist and will post their answers soon.

Today, a few words on death and birth and art.

One year ago today my brother died.

Something deep inside me shattered and will never be put back together. The process of putting the pieces back together will be a lifelong venture. I am a soft animal; meanwhile the world moves on. Everything took on a different hue, a darker tint, less bright. What’s the opposite of rose-colored glasses? Blurred vision? Half full lenses? Empty frames?

When your little brother is friends with everyone in town, you become “the brother.” Being known as “Justin’s brother” wasn’t so bad though. It led me to a lot of good people and a lot of fun. I always thought ‘I taught this kid everything he knows, and everyone likes him? I’m doing something right.’ I could guide him and protect him when we were younger. At some point that stopped being true. There were things I couldn’t help with, couldn’t teach, couldn’t be heard on. That still hurts. It always will.

Sometimes it felt like my friends wanted to hang out with him more than me. Honestly, I can’t blame them. He was way more fun. He was always part of the group despite the three and a half year age difference. We did everything together. This past year I’ve been so thankful for all of it, even the time in second grade (I was 8, he was 5) when I wrote a story about how annoying he was called The Best Pest. The last line in the story: “I hope he goes to jail forever!” Maybe that was a little harsh.

Grief is an oppressive, pervasive melancholy, a thin haze draped over every inch of your existence. Like the low hum of an appliance, it’s always there even when it blends in with the rest of the din. And then sometimes the other sounds drop out and it’s the only thing. It burrows into your brain. It invades your dreams. It’s a bright light that’s always plugged in and can flash you blind at any moment. It is a helpless, lonely feeling.

Much is said about the needle in a stack of hay, but instead I have felt like the haystack itself in a sudden windstorm, unable to locate the ground, whipped around by the march of time and the wrath of nature. Spinning up, falling down, eyes shut tight, just hoping for a soft landing this time.

I have felt like a chalk outline. Two-dimensional. Hollow. No agency. Drawn by others. Stuck in place. Washing away more with every light breeze or passing rain shower.

He’s been gone for a year, but it feels like yesterday we were kids and he was my shadow, right by side even when I tried to get away. The way he lives on with me is much the same. Always there but just out of reach. A close darkness attached to me forever, one I can’t escape from. A shape that looks like me, a void I can speak to but it can’t speak back.

Three weeks ago today I became a dad.

It’s remarkable how the world shrinks down and feels so small when her eyes open and she looks up at me. It’s scary how everything about the world that scares me magnifies in my mind when I think about her future. The foreground comes into sharp focus and the background gets wide. It’s like a dolly zoom shot. Disorientation. I will do my best to be a realist while working every day to protect her from that background noise. I will use shadow to block it and keep her safe. If it burns my back, it burns my back. I can take it. I will be strong. I will help support whoever she wants to be, and fight against anyone and anything that gets in the way of that. She’s very lucky to have such an amazing mom. I’m very lucky to have such an amazing partner. (We aren’t posting her photo on social media for her protection, but know she is the world’s cutest baby. I promise.)

I can’t wait to tell her about her uncle.

There was the time (2004) we were leaving Barnes & Noble and this random guy had a giant stuffed blue dog tied to his roof. Justin yelled “nice dog!” The guy asked if we wanted it. We agreed $20 was fair. He asked if he could drive around the parking lot a few times so his kid could watch. We said sure thing boss. We stood with his kid and watched him make a few loops. Then it was ours. Turns out the dog had gashes covered by duct tape and the little balls inside it were falling out. Something was weird about it. We’ll never know what the deal was.

We immediately took it to Taco Bell.

There was the time we went to see Dashboard Confessional (2004) and everyone thought he was Andrew McMahon. That was also the day we met Chris Carrabba and my friend wanted his autograph but the only thing he had on him was his final high school report card. Chris signed it and said “nice grades.”

There was the time (2005?) he took a can of paint from our basement, walked a hundred yards down our street and poured some of it in the road. Then he decided the paint spot was called “The Tito” and it was the coolest place to hang out. He even made a shirt that said HANG AT THE TITO.

There was the time (2006?) he did a science experiment in our house: throwing juice boxes at the wall to find out how hard you had to throw it to make it explode. Turns out the answer was… pretty hard.

If we end up having another kid, I hope they get along like we did.

i’ve got the yips

Have you ever felt like a song or a record or an artist has come along at just the right time, just for you? That’s how I feel with “The Yips,” the title track off the incredible new Petey USA record. The lyrics are devastatingly relatable. It seems to be about being your own worst enemy and worrying about passing your own trauma on to your kids. Whew.

“Love myself, so I can give it all to [her]”

your boy loves a list

To end this on a happier note, here are two lists. First, there was a moment in the hospital after our daughter was born, my wife was looking at her phone and doing that half laugh half cry thing. I asked if she was okay. She looked up and said yes, she was just overjoyed re-reading a note in her phone called “things my husband has said to our one day old daughter.” Here are a few of them:

• Want to look at baseball stats?

• Is there anything you want to Google?

• Do I look like what you thought I’d look like?

• Breakfast has a really strong lineup of foods. You can have eggs with anything.

• It’s okay, the Red Sox make me cry too.

• Do I have big toes? I think you have my toes.

• We can have a staring contest sometime. I’ll let you win unless you can handle losing.

And finally, of course, I’ve been playing music for her to start her down the path of liking the good stuff. I hope she liked them.

1. “The Maze” — Manchester Orchestra

2. “Never Meant” — American Football

3. “Pictures of Success” — Rilo Kiley 

4. “On Your Porch” — The Format 

5. “Surf Wax America” — Weezer 

6. “Eleven to Your Seven” — Hey Mercedes

7. “Blacking Out the Friction” — Death Cab For Cutie

8. “She” — Green Day

9. “Central Standard Time” — The Get Up Kids 

10. “Run Away With Me” — Carly Rae Jepsen

11. “Hey Jealousy” — Gin Blossoms

12. “Round Here” — Counting Crows

13. “Twenty Twenty” — Gladie 

14. “Tapdance” — Kevin Devine

15. “Mattresses Underwater” — Colour Revolt