I really enjoyed the variety of the stream of consciousness prompts these past few weeks, but Linda’s back for Stream of Consciousness Saturday once more:
Welcome home Linda.
Let me speak for everyone when I say we missed you. Canada missed you too.
Speaking of missing…missing something or someone…
I immediately thought of a favourite song of mine because I am always thinking of songs.
I first heard Everything But The Girl’s Missing when I was fourteen.
It came on a music compilation CD I bought with my Christmas money from that year. We went to the mall and I discovered Women & Songs, a spin off of Lilith Fair, an all female tour put on by a Canadian music legend: Sarah McLachlan.
This was when CD’s were still the big thing, back when I was still a kid. I miss that, both those things.
I did not yet know the feeling of missing in all the ways I soon would.
I knew what it felt like to be missing a grandparent. It had happened to me four years earlier, quite unexpectedly. Growing up would mean only more of that feeling of missing people I loved, would love, and would lose in one way or another.
CD’s and songs like Women & Songs and Missing would be what I would cling to, when the feeling of missing became too painful that I didn’t know how I would cope.
The song Missing is a bit of a sad tale really. Missing someone to the point of being stuck in the past. I didn’t want that to happen to me, but how could I stop it? How could I get past the missing, put one foot in front of the other and move past it?
You never really do. I don’t think I ever will. I must still try.
Missing, in this case, is a song about longing. It’s actually about the act of stocking, if you get right down to it, but not in a psychotic way I think. Whoever is in this song is a pitiful shell of who they once were. That is no way to be, to live.
The scars I have from the missing I do are always with me, but their mark fades a little with time.
I miss the sight I used to have and the colours I can no longer see. I miss the colour red, so much so sometimes that I want to cry. I miss the face of a loved one, so much so sometimes that it makes me want to scream.
I miss the feeling I got the first time I read Harry Potter or what it felt like to fall in love for the first time.
I miss a friend who isn’t meant to still be in my life or I begin to miss another friend, even though she isn’t even gone yet.
I miss a grandparent who couldn’t possibly stay, disappearing from this world. And me, helpless to stop it. I miss a parent or other family member who I haven’t even lost yet.
A relationship, love gone wrong and ended, and again I lost out.
I missed my chance, for a life with someone or more time with a loved one. I missed an opportunity for another path in life. Blink and you’ve missed it, you’ve missed it all.
Could you be dead?
The song asks this. Some of the people I miss are and others aren’t, but how come it always feels this way? I don’t see someone any longer and my mind automatically goes there, even when I don’t want it to.
Maybe, in a way, it’s easier for my mind to think of all those I miss as gone undeniably and for good. Maybe it’s just easier to cope, in an odd way. Maybe it’s how I’m preparing myself for a future of missing, but wait…
I spend so much of my life missing people that I miss out on other things. The rest of it starts to pass me by. I often feel sorry for myself, just missing the mark somehow.
I missed my train. I miss certain people like the desert does miss the rain. That song uses this to create a vivid image of what it feels like to miss. I can’t get over how strong that image is and I feel it, every time I hear Missing.
What do you miss? Could be a person, place, or a thing.