Grief Counseling
I’m spending far too much time alone. Yesterday, I called 3 friends in a row who all had to cut off my 40 minute story about what happened to me at the hair salon place with an “uhm…Lauren, I’m actually AT WORK. I have to go…” So down the list of my friends I went…trying all the people who I know for a fact don’t do shit at their jobs. Even they had to remind me that my life is grossly unstructured. I should have a baby. But until then…
So yesterday, at the hair salon place, I was laying back to get my hair washed by my hair lady Sashiko–and I heard the lady next to me say “My brother died in March and this November is his birthday. And it’s the first birthday without him. And with the holidays coming right after that–it’s going to be so…” and the lady who was washing her hair chimed in loudly and with a crazy cheerful voice-“Isn’t Emily’s birthday in December!?”
Apparently she didn’t want to hear this sad news as she deep conditioned. So she just chirped her way past it. I should have leaned over and chirped in a “Hey! Did I hear March? MY birthday is in March! And talk about tough birthdays…I’m gonna be 39! OUCH!!!”
I remember right after I got divorced and I called my parents and started crying about how it was all so much harder than I thought it was going to be–and my Mom brought her voice up into a happier octave and sang “Oh my gosh–it’s just tough all over! Are you still liking your car?”
Her idea is always that she wouldn’t want to upset me more by saying something like “that must be hard” just in case I’d completely moved on in the half a second since I had MENTIONED IT and she was just bringing up all these painful memories. But I love her and I can tell stories about her like that BUT YOU BETTER NOT TALK SHIT ABOUT MY MOTHER.
The woman in the salon—she was so sad. Oh, her voice…I wanted to reach over and grab her hand and tell her something like “yeah, that’s tough” but she had on this giant smock that they give us to wear–this big poncho to protect us while we get our hair cut. I’d have to pat around for a while to find her hand under it. I imagined myself patting away, “pat..pat…pat…pat…that’s not your hand…okay, there’s your belt…now I’m going in the wrong direction–where’s your damn hand so I can…comfort you…what the hell is this? There’s your non erect strap on penis…that’s interesting but not want I’m looking for…no real nerve endings there–I can’t comfort you with THAT. Let’s see…pat pat pat…here’s your belt again–okay–there’s your hand…GOT IT!”
The entire time I was getting my hair cut, I thought about the lady and her brother who had died–and as I was walking out I passed her as she was buying some shampoo–and I really wanted to say something to her. About losing a brother…or about the first birthday after someone has died. Something.
“Your hair looks amazing.” I blurted out and walked out the front door.
I should work in grief counseling.
Weedman was a correspondent on “The Daily Show” with Jon Stewart and lived in New York City right up to the time the Iraq war started. During the Gulf War she lived in Amsterdam and learned Dutch and did odd theatre. When the Iran contra thing was happening she was growing up in Indiana listening to Bowie and Costello. After Kurt died she moved to Seattle and lived there for five years as a writer/performer. She is most well-known for her AWARD winning self absorbed solo shows. Her book, A Woman Trapped in a Woman’s Body, was recently named by the Kirkus Book review as a “Top 10 Indie Book of 2007”. Now she lives in Los Angeles and has had a dreary day appearing on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and played “hysterical woman” on several episodes of “Reno 911”.
www.laurenweedman.net
Happy Birthday.