Guardrail: A Song for My Mom
On March 5th my mom would have been 80. She passed away Oct 4, 2001, almost 16 years ago. There’s so much she’s missed in the last 16 years, so many things I wanted to tell her, and continue to want to tell her. I still have this rawness when it comes to talking about her or even thinking about her. Time definitely helped—my cousin Anna who told me that at her wake was right about that. But it’s like the scab over the tiny little holes in my heart get picked open every so often. This week was one of those weeks where the scabs will now have a lot of work to do to re-form.
See, I used to write songs. And I started to write Guardrail when I was driving home the night she died. Mom had cancer, and the last 6 weeks of her life me and my sisters took care of her 24/7. We each dealt with it our own ways, of course. My way was what I liked to call denial robot mode. I denied that she was at risk of dying, and dammit I was going to do every little thing to make her survive it. So I assigned every little task with that heavy importance. Doing the laundry and hanging it out on the line the way she liked would make her live. Putting just enough protein powder in the shakes I was making her would make her live. Too much and it got dumped down the sink and I started over. Her hard boiled eggs needed to be perfect—a tinge of green on the yolk would be her demise.
And that lasted for 6 weeks.
Todd and I were living just south of Boston in Norwood, I was working in Cambridge. I was in grad school at night. I went back to work and made an appearance two days per week—my boss understood and let me do my thing. A layoff at work was announced, and I was psyched for it. That meant more time to nurse Mom back to perfect health. The egg boiling and the shake blending resumed with added vigor.
The she died on a Thursday. We made the arrangements. I couldn’t eat. I paced around the house like a caged lion who had just ingested a time bomb. I got in the car and drove back to Norwood in silence, sobbing the entire way home. I was convinced that someone replaced the Massachusetts Turnpike with a giant treadmill. The ride went on for what felt like days, until I got onto route 95 and headed south toward Norwood. I couldn’t take it anymore, I pulled over and dry heaved over the guardrail. I felt its curve of cold metal in my hands. It was the first moment I had without purpose for six weeks, and I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
I began to write the lyrics in my head as I finished the drive. I bashed out a chord progression on my guitar that I wanted to sound very dissonant, hence the out of tune sound of this song. (That and the fact that my idea of tuning my guitar is “it is what it is”). All week I’ve been practicing this song, as I haven’t barely touched a guitar in about a year. And all week the tiny scabs on the tiny holes in my heart ripped open as the song played itself out on repeat in my head.
I give you, Guardrail. For my Mom, Jane Kruzel.
Nobody needs to tell me how amazing you were
I watched you fight and I watched you stand down
And I wonder which one took more guts
I wish I had your strength
I wish I had your brain
If only I had half of your energy
But I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway to hold the guardrail in my hands
And I wonder what’s gonna happen next
We gather and we clutch the pieces of who you were
I wear your earrings, I walk around in your clothes
And I stare at your photo and wonder where that better place is
That everyone keeps talking about
But I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway to hold the guardrail in my hands
And I need someone to tell me
What part of the equation I got wrong
And I need someone to tell me
If I’m doing this right now
Because I don’t know how to grieve
And right now I’m too tired to try
October 4th 12:15 PM
Carved its way onto my brain
12:14 and 12:15 are radically different
No matter how hard I try 12:16 will never be like 12:14
It used to be I could tell you exactly how long its been
At any given moment right down to the minute
Obsessed I calculated over and over
Please don’t leave me alone with my thoughts too long
But I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway to hold the guardrail in my hands
And I need someone to tell me
What part of the equation I got wrong
And I need someone to tell me
If I’m doing this right now
Because I don’t know how to grieve
And right now I’m too tired to try
Nobody needs to tell me how amazing you were.
BJ Knapp is the author of Beside the Music, available for purchase here. Please sign up for the Backstage with BJ Knapp mailing list to get updates on events, signings, dog pictures and so much more.
added on 03.05.17