Turn, Turn, Turn my ass, I think the Byrds are full of shit. I know they didn't write that song, but they did take it to number one in 1965, so I'm holding them accountable. Plus, that is a much better choice than the actual songwriter who cribbed most of the lyrics from the Book of Ecclesiastes. I'm uncomfortable calling that book full of shit, since, stop, drop and roll doesn't work in hell. But, as always, I digress.
Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is A Season) my ass - try losing a loved one to cancer two weeks before Halloween. It is jacked up, hard. How strange it is to drive by homes that have ghastly decorations in their yard. Thinking about those zombies coming up from their faux graves while you are sitting next to a real life skin and bone zombie who is your Mom. At the end she even moaned like a zombie.
I realize that I shouldn't bring up, what I can't put down, because nearly two months since Mom's death, I'm clearly still haunted by it all.
I get that. What I didn't get is how people could decorate their yards with the faux dead and stay up late into the night watching horror films and not be able to look me in the eye when they learned that my Mom had died. How many couldn't even acknowledge her death.
I didn't understand that so many embrace Halloween in all its macabre, ghoulish glory because they are scared to death, of death. You know what? I was one of those many. I can think back on times when I didn't know what to say to someone when they had lost a loved one. How I had dodged them or simply said nothing.
If I've learned anything from this, it is the fact that you should keep your eyes open when you walk past the proverbially graveyard rather than whistling past in a state of denial.
Until I BLOG again...Goin' to a party where no one's still alive
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