It's been almost three months since we lost you. And not one day goes by you don't somehow or somewhere find your way into my thoughts.
I've missed you so much. I know anyone who knew you would tell you the same thing, but coming from me, I just want you to know my life has a void without you that no one will ever fill.
When I was at your funeral I promised myself I wouldn't sit around and cry anymore. You'd hate that. Not only do you absolutely condemn doting on you, but I think you'd be more angry at the fact that I was wasting time on something that nothing could be done about. You'd tell me to get up, wipe my eyes, and move on. So, in a nutshell, that's what I've been doing. But there are still so many things I want to tell you, so many stories, ideas, happenings, bands and songs, movies, TV shows, issues, thoughts...countless topics that I swirl over and over in my head, topics that make me want to get in the car, drive the heinous hour to Fallon, and pick you up to smoke cigarettes, drive around, and hear me babble on and on about. You were always the greatest listener. You knew how to never interrupt, how to soak in everything that spilled out of my ever-running mouth, and then take it and summarize your response so gracefully and simply that it just made everything make sense.
So instead of constantly wishing you'd come around and do it again, I figured it best to put all of this stuff down somewhere for you, and I've chosen this blog to do so. I'll keep doing this until I've nothing left to say. Which, as anyone who knows me worth a damn, knows that moment won't come. So, here goes...
Dear Ryan,
I'm bummed you missed Thanksgiving. My mother, in all of her glory, drove from Vegas with Pat. I've been thinking lately- why does this woman always insist on driving? I mean, a Southwest ticket from Vegas to Reno is dirt cheap, even cheaper than the gas if you book enough in advance, and as you and I both know, that drive is nothing short of hellish. There's zero landscape gazing opportunities, and the thriving metropolises that lay in between offer little to no cultural intakes or enticing roadside stops. You of all people know how much I appreciate the desolation, isolation, and raw beauty of the Nevada desert, but at the same time, I'd rather chew on 40 year old toenails than make that drive.
But, being Rebecky, there's always some sort of twisted purpose behind her madness. And you would have loved this one.
She's been getting these random outpatient surgeries- I'm sure you remember the one on her knee, or at least that you'd walk into her house on any given day and take a blind shot in the dark as to what body brace she happened to be sporting that week. Well, she recently got a surgery on her shoulder, which has left her with one of those arm slings you get when you break your collar bone, constant bitching about the pain, and, the coup de grâce of it all: a large, medical chair which looks to be about 30 years old, complete with blue-green vinyl coverings. If you were to turn a crash test dummy into a chair, this is what it would look like. The part that actually serves a function is the armrest that pairs with the shoulder she hurt- it exercises her arm up and down, in slow, concise movements, not straining it or overextending it, but giving it just enough workout to suffice as physical therapy.
Nevermind the fact that one of us could have easily done a 15 minute exercise routine with her where we carefully lifted her arm up and down; no, for Becky, there is no substitute but the most outrageous apparatus she can find. That's why we love her!
Because of this stupid contraption, her, Pat, Ainslee, and pat's dad, who surprisingly isn't terrified of me post-wedding, had to make the 450 trek in not one, but two cars. Talk about an environmental sham. Not to mention the over abundance in luggage they all brought. Who needs 2 suitcases for 4 days?! You and I could do that in one backpack, and still have room for our computers!
Needless to say, the chair sat in the middle of Abbi and Ty's living room and made for a fantastic toy once I got slightly intoxicated. We would have had a blast in that thing, but I'm almost glad we didn't; we might have broken it, and that would have sent the already "stressed and on edge" Rebecca into a frenzy of rage and aggravation. Although, now that I'm writing this, she would have easily forgiven us. I mean, come on, it's us! It's hard to forgive our antics after a little outburst. We're that adorable. Plus, we're Becky's favorites. If we'd have thrown Mel into the mix, man, we'd of got off easy! Good times.
Ryan, you would not believe the hype over Kanye West's new album. Seriously. Pitchfork, which is kind of my music reference guide, except when it comes to dance stuff, gave it a perfect rating. It's #1 on EVERY friggin best of 2010 list. People are going ape-shit over this thing. I wish you were here to hear it. We could sit around and discuss the fact that he doesn't name so many artists that contributed to his songs, including Elton John (then I'd make a joke about him being a homo-hater), how the interludes are at least 15 seconds too long, and how the overall hype over this makes the talk around Eminem or Jay-Z's albums look like whispers. However, I think you'd LOVE the Cee-Lo Green album "The Lady Killer". Its got this glorious mixture of hip-hop, funk, soul, rnb, and creates this groovy tone throughout each song that makes me feel like he's reviving these outlandish elements of Outkast, old Black Eyed Peas, and even the lighter side of Mos Def to bring our generation a true example of what it means to be soulful, black, and make music. I really do think you'd adore this album. Plus, he covers Band of Horses- how rad does that make a hip-hop artist when they cover some cowboy indie band?! fucking awesome, I know!
I saw Arcade Fire live. I know you were never super into this band, at least not in any way I am, but I know you appreciated their music. It was truly a show you would have marveled at. It was in Berkley at the Greek Theater, which sits to the side of UC Berkley, and is one of the most marvelous, captivating, and aesthetically perfect venues I've ever had the pleasure of being inside. It's set up like a real Greek amphitheater, the sides cascading down in an almost vertical slant, until they reach the bottom pit, which leads to a massive stage that can be seen perfectly from ANY spot in the house. Its not indoor though, so you get the full experience of n outdoor show, with the city-scape of SF serving as a transcendental background. The acoustics are golden, this place was made for live performances. What struck me about their performance that pertains to you is that their first album, "Funeral", which is my favorite of theirs, parallels a lot of my feelings toward your situation. The confusion, the torment, the depression, the downright unexplainable misery that accompanies one when dealing with death. The way the songs spoke to me during that concert; I pictured a march through a desolate graveyard, one with only your tombstone, with each individual instrument playing its input to each song with such conviction, such honesty, and really, such brutality, all in the name of loss. It didn't make me sad. In fact, it did quite the opposite. It made me joyous, in some sick and twisted way, that there really were people who felt the unbearable sting of the physical, emotional, and mental torment of emptiness that one only feels when the world as they know it has been ripped from underneath, on top of, and every which way around, all because they had someone that's now gone. If I could have, I would have marched with them in my vision, holding a picture of you high above my head, high enough so that the heavens and the earth could see how beautiful you really are. By the end of the performance I felt your presence so alive inside of me I had to remain speechless for several minutes, just to take in the pure bliss of the music, the feeling, and the idea that you, in some way, felt it too.
So now that I've slightly poured my hear about a few select topics I would have discussed with you off the bat if I had been able to see you again, I'll end this first letter. Just know I've made it, I'll continue making it, and when I've really made it into something, you'll know. And I'll let you know.
I love you, Ryan. I always will. You'll always be the man who stole my heart, kept it, and made it shine. I do a lot of what I do that's worth a damn because I know you'd want to see me succeed. How many people can HONESTLY say that about one of their friends? Not many. You cared. And I'll give you reasons to keep caring while you're watching me from that Adult Swim, music haven in the abyss of the afterlife. I love you buddy. Keep shining for me, I still need it.
Nothing put pure love and infinite devotion,
Connie
