Spring and Sorrow

When apple blossoms paint the trees
Their petals’ scent perfumes the breeze
When robins return from Winter’s sleep
Blades of grass shoot through the leaves

Promise! Hope! The people proclaim
No, not me, I can only wane
A black curtain of death and pain
Name upon name. Name upon name.

The season of life now reeks like death
A distinctive rot on sweet Spring’s breath
The foul scythe swooped with terrible breadth
Rending our hearts, our souls, our heads

Josh’s Musings

At Misplaced Memories, we like to have fun. Our music IS FUN. But, if you listen to our lyrics, the songs come from the heart. From pure, unbridled emotion. It’s what attracted me to this project in the first place. Music IS personal. And so are the stories behind the music. So, since I’m the chief of technology for Misplaced Memories, you’ll have to indulge my ramblings in a new segment I’ll call Josh’s Musings.

Spring in Michigan

Spring in Michigan is one of extremes. We all know this. We played Mulligan’s on St. Paddy’s day weekend when it was 73 degrees and yet on May 2, I still had to don a coat and gloves to take my daughter to school this morning. We look for signs that summer is coming. And to this California-raised kid, summer is the great promise, the hope that keeps me alive through the hell-scape of a Michigan winter. So, when those first apple blossoms appear and I must dodge suicidal robins as they avoid my tires, my mental state is lifted naturally.

Loss Taints Spring

Yet the last four seasons of new life and rebirth have been personally marked by death, pain, and loss. Grandparents succumbing to the inevitable march of time and most recently, and even more acutely, the loss of a beloved pet… a member of the family. Bailey was a rabbit. A rabbit that, at first appeared so normal, I infamously told my wife I didn’t want “an ordinary rabbit.” Well, through the glass at the pet-section at Weyvale Garden Center in Huntingdon, England back in January 2017, this ‘ordinary rabbit’ chose her. Bailey turned to look at my wife with giant ears pointing her way, and with a wordless, “Hi there” hooked her on the spot. An ‘ordinary rabbit’ who became the ET to my wife’s Elliot. An ‘ordinary rabbit’ who instinctively connected to her on an emotional level. An ‘ordinary rabbit’ who sat by her side the whole day my wife’s grandfather was buried. An animal that literally left her mark on everything in our house… we still find items ‘autographed’ by her teeth. A connoisseur of cardboard, she infamously loved authentic Chinese food (Amazon boxes imported straight from the PRC).

Two weeks ago today, she succumbed to what we think was cancer. Our greatest solace was being able to be with her as she died… my wife’s hands comforting her as Bailey, terrified, tried out outrun death itself… on her side, legs sprinting until the sad harvester caught up.

Art and Healing

Spring. Life. Death. The endless cycle. What does this have to do with music? Everything. What is art? What is poetry? What is music? To me they have always been the languages of emotions. How to convey the feelings that are indescribable. Therapeutic processing of life’s events. After Bailey died, I put down the pop-punk, the happy-go-lucky fun music and went back to the sad. Listening to “Disintegration” by The Cure is my kind of therapy. I learned to play “Angels” by Robbie Williams on the guitar. Music is always there for me no matter what the feelings I have and music has never failed to assist in processing those times in life… happy or sad.

I used to love this season only as for the hope it portended (because honestly, not many people love the chaos and catastrophe of Michigan spring weather) … now, I worry that March and April will just be another reminder of the temporal nature of life. But I suppose that is a good thing. With this sad event two weeks now in the rear-view and personally … mostly beyond the immediacy and the pain, one moment sticks out that still gets me right in the feels. Hours after Bailey left us, deep in the throes of anguish, between the tears arose a question followed by an answer and a moment of clarity. Why? No, not why does death happen. Why?!?! Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we love knowing full well that it will only end in this horrible emotion none of us wish to feel? Is it not far more rational to not love? As clear as a bell I immediately knew the answer to this dumb question. If given the chance, I’d do it all over again in an instant! Bailey gave us over eight amazing years of love, affection, companionship, and more than a few moments of now-precious material destruction. As my family heals and the pain is replaced by these fond memories it will reinforce the immediacy of the present and to experience and enjoy this gift of life… because death comes to us all.