Every morning is the same. I wake with you on my mind. Every morning. This weekend marks the end of summer. There will be a BLUE MOON tonight. I will go to the beach, I will say my prayers and release my offerings under the moonlit sky. My dear Moonboy I miss you so much.
I trudge through the day, hazy and sad. This has not gotten any easier. The TV blares in the background, while I try to do the most menial of tasks. Everything takes on a new meaning. A new persona. A TV show ends, a boxing match begins, and the words “Dedicated to…” or “In memory of…” appear on the screen. A moment of silence. Another one gone from the world. But the show goes on. People put their heart and soul, “In memory of…” until the next episode.
“I feel better now than I did a month ago…” I said to my friend Anais. I know she has been going through her share of suffering over this mutual loss. “…But I feel different overall. My sensuality is gone. All of my senses–dulled. It’s like, I’m living but I’m not feeling. Not fully experiencing. My body tells me I’m hungry and I eat without tasting. There is no pleasure. It’s as if I’m moving through the world with a helium balloon of my self floating above me….”
I am not on solid ground. I am somewhere far away. Somewhere thinking of you. My spirit floating high above, like a Thanksgiving Parade cartoon balloon; above the crowds, looking out and over the sea of bodies. Where are you? Where are you? You have been plucked away from me. From us. I am suffering so very deeply. This level of sadness brings out the worse in me; the demons possess me. I want to vanish. Disappear, wake up somewhere else. Heaven. Disintegrate and float among the galaxies. My eyes and mind are clouded with the haze of tears, suffering, and disbelief. This is so wrong, so out of order… This is all a mistake… I talk aloud like a crazy person sometimes. Am I becoming insane? So dashed, I am numb. All these months later and my heart, my core still hurts so badly. People get tired of me; tired of hearing my professions and my sobs. They don’t return calls or emails anymore. They are tired. Life goes on. God Bless us all.
I stared at the moonlit sky. No the moon was definitely not blue, but the night sky was a velvety, midnight blue. Just like my favorite color crayon when I was a kid.
The moon is a superb brilliance. The rays of light create a luminous path on the ocean’s surface. I am hypnotized by this. This glistening, rippling path that seemed infinite. A path to the midnight blue horizon, far, far away. I pour a libation of bittersweet syrup. An offering to the Goddess. I whisper a prayer, as best as I can muster in my numbness. The ocean tides shift, and a wave comes rolling in and breaks my thought. I look down at the water that has washed around my feet, my shadow in the wet sand, the glow of my white shirt. And suddenly I feel you, ever so strongly. I look to the moon, and the blackness that surrounds, and the single hole of light piercing through the atmosphere. I imagined you in heaven; imagined you as the Spot Operator and the moon as your spotlight in the sky. You are shining the spotlight on me. As I stand at the edge of the sea, the black, white and midnight blue of it all. I am the Sideshow in this crazy Circus. How crazy this has been. What a tragedy. What a drama. The Artist died. Houdini. Young and bright and robust. Foolish and daring. The twist in the tale. This should have never happened. This freakish oddity. This terrible thing that I cannot get over. I am the Human Cannonball. I am the girl on the flying trapeze. I am the lovely assistant being sawed in half. I am the contortionist. I am the sad clown. The crash of the ocean waves plays the part of a roaring crowd of faces I cannot see, the Spirits my cheerleaders or hecklers I am yet unsure. I hold back my tears, and imagine myself as a sideshow freak swallowing a sword. There is a man and woman approaching. Lovers getting ready for a night swim. A small group of birds fly close above the waters surface, and then descend on the beach. I am distracted as I watch them hunt. I will look at birds, not at the lovers. I say thank you to the Goddess of the Sea, and say my goodbye to you my love. So many goodbyes. I could fill this ocean with my tears. “You used to call me Cielo… You said I was your sky, your eyes… Oh Tchak, I can’t see a thing these days. Please help me… May forever your spotlight guide me through the darkness, Moonboy… Love and Light on your journey, Baba.” I walk away from the stage and the roaring crowd, out of the spotlight and towards the boardwalk. I think of the BAC crew, and how Tchak loved the culture of the circus. Names of circus folk and stories attached to those names drifted through my mind. I wondered how everyone was holding up. I said another payer while I walked, wishing everyone well. I feel so utterly alone.