How Does It Feel?
On Grooves and Grief
I held out as long as I could. But, I didn’t make it to 9 am before hitting “play” on my Grief Thangs playlist. I went straight to the words and melody that my grieving heart reached for.
Lift me up
Hold me down
I step into sorrow as one wades into a warm pool on a clear, windless night. Softly, rhythmically, the familiar warmth enveloping you from toes to head. I imagine lying back on the pool of tears and floating there, looking up to the starry sky as the crescent moon caresses the parts of my exposed skin.
Keep me close
Safe and sound
The morning routine of making coffee brought it on. The rising of the sun another reminder of those not here to witness it along with the realization that it’s not just him that’s gone. It’s not just our favorite preacher man, our hymnist, our lyrical priest. No, it is not just the artist lost. It is the architect of the collective thread of baited breaths staring at the television in 1999. That thread was handled by a master weaver who ensured our memories of that time, the feeling, the awe, the reverence, the magic of the voice, the words and the man would be woven together from that day forth. We lost the tail of that masterpiece, and in doing so, it feels as if the tapestry will unravel.
Burning in a hopeless dream
Hold me when you go to sleep
Inevitably, the words that unstitch the roughly patched pieces of my broken heart?
Keep me in the warmth of your love
When you depart, keep me safe
Safe and sound
Because he was much more than that one moment. But that moment shaped so much of how we saw him. It imprinted on our collective hearts and souls, like all his music. The voice, the presence, the lyrics that dropped out of his mouth like honey on a hot day, slow and steady, silky and sweet. The energy of the man. The vibe of a generation.
Drowning in an endless sea
Take some time and stay with me
Keep me in the strength of your arms
Yesterday, I made myself move and groove with the volume on ten as I went about the business of living with another crack in my heart. I listened to Club Quarantine once again and participated in a beautiful display of grooves and grief. I got ready to go out while staring in the mirror at the eyes of a woman only 1 year his junior, all too aware of death and all the ways it shows up.
The candles are lit. And the prayer, much like his words, leaves my lips in an ethereal voice, with love and supplications marking the cadence between the silences.
Keep me safe
Safe and sound
And I send you off, as I’ve sent off so many others and as I know so many more will have to be sent off. With gratitude. With love. With a deep sense of appreciation at the wonder of life, the mysteries of death, and the understanding that the words of Campbell, tattooed on my body, still ring true.
To live in the hearts of those we leave behind, is not to die.
That’s how it feels.
Ibae bayen tonu to one of our most beloved griots.
