07 January 10
Loss
On Monday, while trying to focus at work and while listening to Scissor Sisters (a little Filthy/Gorgeous to be precise), I read online that Brad Graham of BradLands, aka Must See HTTP://, had passed away. I read the post again. I read the link to the few sentences on the St. Louis Today website. I read them again. I tried Google to see if there was any other information available. I returned to Twitter and posted the link and asked if anyone had more information. I refreshed. I refreshed. I saw people begin to answer with “NOOO!”
And then I called the Repertory Theater where Brad worked. I was sobbing at this point. I could hear it in my voice and I couldn’t hide it and I didn’t care. And I honestly thought, “This must be real if I don’t care if a complete stranger will hear that I’ve been crying.”
“I just read on the St. Louis Today website about Brad. I wondered if you had any more information and I’m sorry to be calling you.”
“You what? Where? Oh my. It’s on the website already? We just found out a few hours ago. People are at his house now, they just left a few hours ago. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. We’ll post more info on the website.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry that you’ve lost him.”
And then I cried some more. A lot more.
And I’ve tried to write this, and I’ve deleted it and rewritten and deleted it and I just can’t get over how selfish this all feels. Grief is so self-centered, I’ve realized. Losing a loved one, especially in such a surprising way, just makes you think non-stop about all the things you’ve said and done and laughed at together and you just feel so empty when you realize that great pile of memories will never get any larger. And that’s okay. It’s okay to focus for a while on how your life will never be the same now that this person is gone. It’s okay to remember all the funny (and oh my god were are there a lot) things. And because so many people who knew him, also knew each other online, or at least had small areas of overlap in our personal Venn Diagrams, it’s been easy to read some of these stories with them, and I’ve shared a little, too. And through these stories we all get to add just a bit to the pile of memories that we have of Brad. We get to know him a little bit better through these stories. And even though I’ll never again hear his laugh in person, or watch him smile and wink at Andrew with one eye while looking devilishly to see if I’m watching, or watch him walk up to a complete stranger and make them feel happy and comfortable in 30 seconds flat, I’ll at least have this pile of memories. As long as the Lesser Kudu doesn’t come along and eat them all, I’ll be okay.
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