Fading Light?

As I type this, I have just passed the end of my 51^st year on this planet. It feels like time is passing quickly – too quickly, but I know full well that it is passing at the same pace as ever – one second at a time, one breath at a time, one heartbeat at a time. My perception of the passing of time, however, is a whole different sock full of custard. It seems to pass ever faster as I grow older. To quote Neil Peart:

“Summer's going fast
Nights growing colder
Children growing up
Old friends growing older
Freeze this moment
A little bit longer
Make each sensation
A little bit stronger
Experience slips away...
Experience slips away...
The innocence slips away...”

And mentioning Mr Peart makes me realise that growing older is not a problem, though it may bring with it various issues (yes, I am looking at you creaky knees!) - over all it is a privilege, and not one afforded to everyone. This year indeed has perhaps brought mortality into somewhat clearer focus – not just because it started with my 50^th birthday (and thus with a certain amount of reflection, but that was viewed through a lens tinted by a beautiful, shiny new Les Paul, and also, more importantly, a wee gathering with as many as possible of my even more beautiful and shiny friends and family!)

In the time since that gathering, a lot has changed in the world partly due to a certain “c” word, but also due to another even more malevolent “c” word that has stolen a couple of my musical heroes (the aforementioned Mr Peart, and of course, more recently Eddie van Halen), but also some more “Everyday Heroes” in my life.

My friend Alan “BY” McWilliam was a talented musician and a genuine nice guy – known throughout Dundee for his busking and being in quite a few local bands over the years. I had known him for a long time through being out and about on the Dundee rock scene, and it was always good to see him because of his generosity of spirit and supportiveness (there was also the eternal fellowship of being Rush fans!). I had lost touch with him – mainly due to my moving to Edinburgh – but I was delighted to make contact again a couple of years ago though Mally, another old friend, who was playing keyboards in his latest band Bravado. It just so happened that one of their gigs coincided with a trip to Dundee, so Freya and I went along. It was a great night, I saw quite a few other familiar faces, and I got a chance to reconnect with BY – and it was as if there had been weeks since we’d last spoken, not years… Little did I know that that would be the last time that I would speak to him in person. I am even more glad now than I was at the time to have shared that little time with him – with the added bonus that I had genuinely enjoyed the gig too.

Going back to my 50^th, I had been really glad to share it with a good number of people that I hadn’t seen as much as I would have liked, and none more so than my friend Colleen. I had first met her through friends in Glasgow, and then had met her often through the Edinburgh goth scene, and rather more prosaically, through shopping in Cameron Toll often with her daughter. Collen was simply a beautiful person – kind, generous and gentle. I can’t think of particular “special” memories in her company, since she had a knack of making any meeting special in some way. That said, seeing her at my birthday do was rather special – I already knew that she was ill, so the fact that she was able to come was amazing. Fate is rarely kind in my experience, but in Colleen’s case, it feels like it was particularly cruel. She was a trans women, finally finding her path towards truly becoming herself, if that makes sense, when she fell ill. I don’t think that the pandemic affected her treatment negatively, but it made it a lot more difficult to visit her in her final days. Thankfully some friends were able to spend time with her, and her ex-partner and daughter made it over from France in time to spend a few days with her too. It also brought a group of her friends together online, to arrange things and share stories. Small mercies. (Probably the only ones that we can realistically hope for in these times.)

When she passed, it hit hard. The particular cruelty of her fate, her bravery and her gentleness of spirit probably made her passing, though expected, harder to take. Sometimes, these moments can bring special things into being though, and I have gained new friends through Colleen and my frequently errant muse returned. Words formed in my head, and spilled onto the page with a fluency that I have lacked for a long time. It rapidly became a full song/poem, which after a moment of self-doubt, I shared with the group… I was amazed, humbled and terrified in roughly equal measure when Arielle, Colleen’s former partner, asked me to read it at the funeral. It was an emotional moment, but I guess that I was glad to in some way do something for Colleen, who had given all of us so much. We have to remember, especially in these times where we are forcibly separated from those we need so much, that we have to make sure that they know how much they mean to us. Don’t contemplate your mortality so much that you forget to live. Be kinder. Love Everyone. Be More Colleen!

Fading Light

Fading Light

It means too much to let it fade away

Have to keep it close for the future days

So much bravery

Shining from your smiling eyes, selfless.

 

And even as you faded away

You made the rest of us stronger

Even as you drifted further away

You brought the rest of us closer

 

Cruel Fate

As you finally found your own way

Cruel torrents washed the path away

So much bravery

Worn with a humble coat of kindness

 

Falling tears

They’re all I seem to have today

No real answers are coming my way

So much bravery

But I seem to have none myself

 

And the beauty in your soul

Is an honest story simply told

The gentle kindness

That should be obvious

Your warmth that soothes us all

As we walk onwards, with a piece of you in our soul.

The light isn’t fading at all…