I miss Jerry August 27, 2006

And I’m probably too drunk, at 3:58 a.m., to elaborate on that.

I miss the existence of Jerry Garcia.

He has been gone for eleven years and some days.  I’m not sober enough to figure out just exactly how many more days than eleven years he has been gone.  Rest assured he’s been gone for longer than I care to acknowledge.

I never actually knew the man, so it is preposterous and presumptuous that I would say something like, “I miss him.”

What I miss is what he gave me, and that is actually not gone.  Surprisingly.  I spent a part of this night at a party full of people I didn’t know and a part of it losing myself, blissfully, in what Jerry gave me, maybe without even knowing it.

The ability to let go of myself.  My  SELF.  And just be.  Just let everything go.  Every worry, every fear, every everything.  Just to let it all go and to just be.  To let music enter me not through my mind but through my body.  And to be fully aware of the ways different parts of my body can drive other parts.  Maybe you understand.

Maybe you don’t.

But the fact remains.  I miss Jerry.  He was taken too soon.  Selfish of me, I know.  But I wasn’t done with him yet. 

I have a few body parts I would consider unnecessary spares if you would consider coming  back.  Meaning, I don’t REALLY need my left arm all that much.  If someone wants it, it’s all yours.  As long as you give Jerry back.

I spent some time tonight crying while laughing and dancing, mourning while feeling alive with music.  Can you mourn someone you’ve never met?  Can you mourn him 11 years after he died?

I think, perhaps, that it would be good for me to go to bed.

But, so you you know?

 

I miss Jerry.  Terribly.