On grieving

Every few months I have a dream about JCM (more here). They all seem to follow the same sort of story, but I described the one I had last week to gf1 and gf2 so I remember it a little better. In my dream, I was in the loungeroom at my parents house and answered the phone - it was him. I answered, he said hi and asked how I was, I told him I was good and asked him how he was and then asked if this was a recording of a conversation we had had earlier. "No, why?" he asked, and then he listened as I explained that he had passed away in December last year.

I can't remember his reaction, but we both now understood that he was not meant to be able to talk to me, that we had found a way to communicate, and that if the phone call were to end then we would not be able to talk anymore because we'd been very lucky to cheat his death in this way.

And then I woke up.

All of the dreams I have with him have to do with talking to him, usually in person, and him not realising that he has already passed. And while I'm pretty sure it's just my brain tricking me because I've seen shows on tv where people can communicate with the dead, so why the heck not. And I'm also sure he knew he was going to pass away before he actually did, even though he was so adamant that he was going to beat it when I saw him. But I do get some comfort from these dreams.

It's odd, because we had fallen out of touch for like five years before he got sick. While we were close in school and uni, we weren't ever super close. But he was always fun, always entertaining and often annoying in the way that guys in their twenties you are catching up on missed years are.

I think I hold on to my grief for JCM as much for him as I do for me. I think about the pain that I felt at his funeral, the manner in which he won't get to do so many things, that he doesn't get to be here for so many of our things. I think about the loss itself , how is it that people can keep losing people and still stay afloat.

I remember being pretty distraught at a work function after being given the news about Max, how a workmate asked me if he lived with me and then dismissing that it wasn't so sad because he lived with my parents.

I knew then that the feeling of absolute grief was important, that grieving leads to healing. But I wonder what I am grieving for... how much is for JCM and how much is for me.

I often think of loss of him when I am driving.
And I always think of the loss of him where I hear this song.

The food that I’m eating
Is suddenly tasteless
I know I’m alone now
I know what it tastes like
So break me to small parts
Let go in small doses
But spare some for spare parts
There might be some good ones
Like you might make a dollar
I’m inside your mouth now
Behind your tonsils
Peeking over your molars
You’re talking to her now
And you’ve eaten something minty
And you’re making that face that I like
And you’re going in, in for the kill, kill
For the killer kiss, kiss for the kiss, kiss

I need your money, it’ll help me
I need your car and I need your love x2
So won’t you help a brother out?
Won’t you help a brother out?
Won’t you help a brother out, out, out, out, out?

So break me to small parts
Let go in small doses
But spare some for spare parts
You might make a dollar
Dollar, might make a dollar

So won’t you help a brother out?
Won’t you help a brother out?
Won’t you help a brother out, out, out, out, out?

So break me to small parts
Let go in small doses
But spare some for spare parts
There might be some good ones
You might make a dollar
(There might be some good ones)
There might be some good ones
(You might make a dollar)
You might make a dollar
(There might be some good ones)
There might be some good ones