for paula.

"there's the moon asking to stay
long enough for the clouds to fly me away
well it's my time coming, i'm not afraid to die
my fading voice sings of love,
but she cries to the clicking of time
oh, time

wait in the fire...

and she weeps on my arm
walking to the bright lights in sorrow
oh drink a bit of wine we both might go tomorrow
oh my love

and the rain is falling and i believe
my time has come
it reminds me of the pain
i might leave
leave behind

wait in the fire...

and i feel them drown my name
so easy to know and forget with this kiss
i'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow"-jeff buckley



just spent 24 at home in syracuse.
(it feels weird calling it "home" cause it's not. hasn't been for a long time...)
my oldest friend's mom passed away after a long battle with cancer.

i think the hardest thing in life is death.
to die with grace, dignity, when death is what most people fear the most, is impressive to me.
paula accomplished this.

to say goodbye to this woman who was a driving force in me not becoming a statistic in my old neighborhood was difficult.
to sit next to brian, her husband of 35 years. to watch this stoic man, who i've always seen as the marlboro man, strong and silent, showing no emotion, smoking his cigarette, more recently riding his harley, to sit next to him while he sobbed, it was impossible to be strong.

jenn, my friend, is 6 months pregnant with a baby who will never know this amazingly sassy woman who raised his mom.
paula with her eye rolls. shaking her head at whatever dramatics i pulled in high school. this petite little woman with a huge personality. who never understood when i stopped eating meat, but catered to me better than my own parents. who would save kfc biscuits from the night before for my inevitable trip over after school.

she yelled at me the night my high school boyfriend broke up with me over the phone. i refused to eat dinner. she told me to cut it out and wouldn't let me leave the table til i was done.

i was at her house the afternoon everyone found out kurt cobain was dead.
i was at her house the afternoon kurt loder announced that jeff buckley was "missing".
the latter was more crushing to me than the former.

"grace" was the album i listened to on repeat the morning my own mom let me go in to school late because i was so sad about my first breakup. "last goodbye" was the song.

things do come full circle.
the words of "grace" could not more perfectly describe paula's faith, her battle against the disease which would ultimately claim her life, her attitude when she explained to her daughter that she was ready to leave this life.

for paula jean.
from michaela jean.
words cannot express how much i appreciate in adulthood all that you did for me in childhood.
thanks for being my other mom.