I’m an open book. I’ve always been inclined to share everything with everyone, and it’s why my songs are truthfully honest. I promise that I’m still writing new songs, and will always continue to, but I wanted to add another piece of prose to the story; exposition, if you will.
As I lay back writing this, laptop on my stomach, the clock approaches two weeks from the hour that I lost my cat Kate, on this very couch. The grief I experienced in that moment, and in the weeks following, deflated the life out from inside of me. I did everything I could for months to keep her healthy and comfortable until the end, and even in the moment, tried to save her and keep her breathing until she fell limp in my arms. I haven’t moved her blanket since the day, and sometimes I pass my nose by it to see if I can lock her scent away in my memory.
But I won’t let this pain and these macabre experiences I’ve shared with you be her final memory. She came from a shelter, having lived there for two years. The volunteers there did not know where she came from. Kate came home with terribly decayed teeth which must have been causing her so much pain. We had them fixed, and ten had to be extracted. She was a happy cat after that, and grateful to be a part of our family. She and I shared some very special times every morning, when she would climb up onto my lap as I had my coffee and read my emails. We put two beds in our front window where she and her brother Leo would spend much of the day in the sun, watching the birds at the bird feeder. She had the softest fur. Everyone said she felt like a rabbit. I saved some of her fur.
I truly grew from the mutual love and appreciation between us. I want to know that I’ll always remember it. I love you, little girl.
In my music and in my blogging, I’ve focused a lot on the meaning of life, the passage of time, and memories of days gone by. Most of my life has been a quest for purpose; a yearning to understand the ultimate meaning of my existence and place in this world, and on this timeline more vast than can be comprehended. In high school, my philosophizing became a habitual part of my classroom daydreaming, (and I wondered why I almost failed trigonometry.) I searched for answers, in my passion for music or romantic relationships, for some host from which to derive my sense of purpose and happiness, to ease my uncomfortable agnosticism. I think the search caused me unnecessary sadness and displeasure in things that I should have enjoyed.
I am in love with this scene from the movie “Forrest Gump.” (Don’t watch the clip if you haven’t seen the movie, as it’s a bit of a spoiler.)
To paraphrase, Forrest says that he’s not sure if everyone has a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around, accidentally, on a breeze. He comes to the conclusion that maybe it’s both. I think the crux of the scene is what follows: “but I miss you, Jenny.”
My perspective on…everything…has changed over the years, and continues to. Daily. Being faced viscerally with death and family tragedy in the last several years has had a major impact…(maybe “toll” would be a better word)…on my philosophy of life. I’ve passed slowly through existential, nihilistic, and absurdist beliefs. But without delving too deeply into the process of the progression, I’d like to share where I find myself today.
I think it’s ultimately liberating to abandon the search. I think it’s absurd to be blind to the daily beauty that life presents us, based on the existential weight we believe it does or does not hold. I don’t think that the pursuit of dreams, love, happiness, or human connection is futile, because nothing that gives us pleasure today is pointless.
But I miss you, Kate.
I’m looking forward to singing my songs again for you all.
Nicholas
