My partner Rachel (Rayray) is pulling some of the the most profound insights on her blog on one of the, no the worst, thing you have to live through. I’m listeneing to Eminem, like Mike loved and I listened to everyday as I worked out two years when this all got into motion. Especially the song Without Me, which the chorus, despite it’s sometimes homophobic lyrics, drove me on. It said well this looks like a job for me, so everybody just follow me, ’cause we need some controversy, ’cause it would be so empty without me.
That made me think of me and Mike and our at the time frequent conversations. I was another anchor for him to his new life. A talisman to remind him that his new family was his his real family and his place was cemented. They would never let go of him voluntarily. Plus, aside from acting when I was 17, there was never anything that swept me off my feet as a job for me. As the job for me. But this ocean of children in limbo did. There were many fewer in happy arrangemens than were in living hell or on psychotropics. And it felt like an ocean by the sheer magnitude of the number of kids involved that, lowballed 400,000 of them that for some inexplicable reason, weren’t being discussed nearly as say, dog rescue.
Sadly, it’s not inexplicable. There’s a trickle down on this topic just like all the ugly ones we don’t want to admit are happening. Most people in America aren’t prepared to become parents. There’s no licence where they have to recite baby care facts and be explained to what having a child costs; not just monetarily but in your heart. For example, do not have a child unless you are willing to give it a part of your soul and become your responsibility forever. I’ve often written about the parent/child bond that occurs and exists beyond death. But I never had a window into the loss of a child side before, so intimately connected to me. Something that I knew had nothing to do with me and everything about his parents, especially his mom from my side. Never the less, today I realized that I’m still in shock.
Deep shock. So much so it’s covered with my imagined acceptance of his death. That’s life, right? It can suck so badly that there isn’t a word for the suffering you feel when you lose the person that you love the most. For Rachel and Tyson, her partner, that was Mike. I was in awe of the instantaneous unconditionality of their feelings for him. Before he was ever in their arms, he was in their hearts. I was on the phone with Rachel almost daily, learning the story. Hearing the roller coater of emotions when there were challenges in getting him into their custody. It was pure love. I know the feeling from when my infant son was placed in my arms, but this was just the purest thing I ever witnessed and I prayed every night, giving gratitude for them getting him, for me getting the money to document his and other stories. For a change I was actually happy. Just woke up happy. I kept imagining dancing with Mike at a premeire party. And here comes the shock.
I believe that there is power in speaking things into existence. Short of the ability to speak him back to life, even though there is a ton of work between here and there, I want to win an Indie Spirit for him, the most independant spirit I have ever known. Once he was at him real home and allowed to explore himself, he loved glam and sometimes drag queening. I would have loved to escort that fierce side of him to accept and speak about the subject from a first hand viewpoint. I’m pretty iffy on the whole singular higher being thing right now, but I believe in physics and energy. I want to walk out onto that stage with Rachel and the spirit of a drag queen, loud and proud to be the inspiration of the inception of KINDRED and the projects that will spring forth from it. I believe in that.
I believed in him. And I told him every time I had the opportunity. His lifeforce was so strong that it survived being buried in jagged gravel his entire existence. He held on beneath the emotional and physical rubble and was in tact when he reached his parents embrace. The idea that he could die so soon after his life began never touched my spidey-senses. It was a bigger risk for me than for him I thought. It would betray everything I believed in as doing good in the world if he died in a freak accident at 19. That was like saying water could turn to wine. I didnt believe it when I heard it from a friend as a child and this was that unthinkable. And I think more, than, almost anybody I know. Way too much, more than my own good. It’s just the way I am wired so I have to do things like meditate to slow things down to a sedate level.
I’ve been on twice the number of sedatives in the past three months since his passing. Just as I woke in the night to learn the news, I still wake in the night. My getting a solid 8 is a distant memory. I know he would not want me to be messing myself up, and I say it to myself when I think of him. He loved, trusted and appreciated me; what an amazing gift. How painful and precious to carry with me. I know that one day, it wont be painful but comforting and joyful; I just cant see there from here. Memories of my mom still bring a confluence of emotion but they are treasured. Just as my ones of Mike. I actually have the footage of him to watch at my leisure on this computer. But I can’t. Not yet. I’m afraid.
That must be true because I felt it in my gut, excpetions made, when I wrote it. I’m even afraid to write. As a writer, only a writer can understand that and that the only way to break the spell is to write. So it’s what I’m doing; not like a warrior but a wounded child. I have no insght on this one. There have been a great many losses in my life but this is one I’m grateful not to empathize, as much as I sympathize. So here it went. I wrote. And soon I’ll tie all the good blogs together into book that, when Rachel revises and is ready, we will release as a part of the project. And that day, I hope drag queen Mike is there to whisper work it girl. I’m with you all Amy, always.