My work friends joke about how much I love Eminem. I could
say that it’s because everything he says is real and I respect him ’cause he
tells it, (and Aron’s jealous because I talk about him 24/7), but that’s only
one part of it.
8 Mile was the movie that was on the night that Mum died. It
was what I was watching when she left her room for the first time I’d seen that
day, and lay on the couch in the living room next to me. It was an awkward
movie to be watching with her, but it was nice to see out, and her presence was
nice. I’ve talked about this before but, when the movie finished and I turned
off the TV, mum looked up at me and spoke words that seemed insignificant at
the time, but that I’ll never forget. “So that’s it? It’s over?”
“Yes mum, it’s finished,” I replied and walked her back
upstairs. I quickly called my then boyfriend to say goodnight before I went
back to her room and insisted on spending the night with her despite her
objections. That night, she asked me to hold her, and I did, the way she used
to hold me when I was little and she was trying to get me to sleep. It was one
of the last times that I heard her voice.
I didn’t know at the time that she had taken something – I still
don’t know what the something was – just something that was enough to finish
it. For it to be it; over.
No matter how many years go by – it’s fourteen this year –
and how well I think I’m doing, August seems to have this way of rearing its
ugly head and reminding me of its presence and the significance that it has. But
despite how ugly it can get, it always manages to give the gift of perspective
when it is all too easy to get caught up on the insanity of life and the noise
around me. While that night is one that I will always hold close to me, I have
also learnt that there are parts of it that I have to let go, less they should
consume me. I’ve seen what holding on does, and all it seems to bring is a
toxic kind of hurt that nobody should have in their life.
I have learnt that some people will not hear you, no matter
how loudly or profoundly you speak. I’ve learnt to wish them well and let them
go too.
Life is weird. One minute people are there, and they’re
healthy. The next they’re not. The only thing that we can do is try and enjoy
it while we’re here, and to try to be kind to each other while we do it. We won’t
always be able to, but we can try. It’s as simple and cliché as that.
Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve watched 8 Mile again
since that night. I must not be able to bring myself to. Lose Yourself however,
remains one of my favourite songs of all time: a story of resilience that I suppose
I subconsciously associate with that part of my life. Weird, weird life.
