Passages

Back in January, drummer Neil Peart of the band Rush died, and in the wake of that, I started binge-listening; I'd always liked the band, but in the aftermath of Mr. Peart's death, I came to love them. And out of all those songs, one in particular grabbed and held me, to the point that I found myself listening to it multiple times a day, even hearing it in my mind upon waking and sleeping. The song is called "Time Stand Still."

Turns out it was a prophetic song, as the world I knew was about to be changed, in ways both temporary and permanent. The pandemic, of course, has brought some of those changes; another change is in progress now, as one of my beloved cats transitions from this life into whatever comes next. At the moment, I'm feeling the helpless dumb disbelief that is rather preferable to the other state, which is a panoply of wretched emotions held together by bitter weeping. Being a witch and understanding the cycles of life and death doesn't make the pain any lighter, or the loss less acute. In days to come, my spiritual life will (I hope) be a source of renewed strength and comfort as I grapple with the space his absence leaves in my life; but for this moment, I can't summon the strength to so much as light a candle. I will, in time. Right now, I wait, and I grieve.

"Freeze this moment a little bit longer," says the song; "make each impression a little bit stronger. Experience slips away." Please do, if you can. Because of the song, I remembered to do so, a little.