Something very bleak and horrible.
A guy walks up to me after the Hoboken show last night, and says, “Hey, I saw you thanked ______ on the liner notes for your first album. I’m her brother.”
Wow! _______?! We dated when we were in school together.
“Yeah, I know.”
That’s crazy. Where is she these days?
“Well….she’s not anywhere.”
A sinking feeling.
He told me that she committed suicide about ten years ago–around the time that album with her name in the liner notes was released. She shot herself in the heart. She was a sweet, slender girl with some eating disorder struggles; she was deeply involved in anti-1991-Gulf-War activism, and our relationship was brief, because as I was out doing open mics and trying to get gigs, she was doing mass mailings and rallies.
So I’m feeling this crazy stunned grief. It feels almost illegitimate, to grieve somebody ten years after their passing. Like I should’ve been dealing with her ghost a long time ago. We weren’t incredibly close. Still. Scary, stunning, and this huge empty feeling that I feel guilty for not feeling a long time ago.