Kristine E. Brickey

It's been over a decade, over eleven years, over eleven years one month and days. Today, one month from what should have been his twenty-eighth birthday, I sat still and watched the latest Pink documentary. To be clear, I fckn love Pink. Her music helps me manage, helps me survive, and most importantly, helps me release the pressure valve when I least realize it needs releasing. I was prepared to love the doc, to learn more about her recent tour and her beautiful family. I figured there would be tears. However, completely unprepared for feeling all the feels that watching 'All I know so far' tore from me. SO much love. Not just the love of music and performing, but love at so many levels. The family she's built from years of performing with the same people. The family she's built with her husband, son, and daughter. Seeing the reactions of fans as Pink performed, how she embraces all people and draws emotions from so many. Yeah, all those lovely bits had me tearing ...

     I gave everyone fair warning, not out of self-pity or loathing, but because I felt they needed to understand, to have an ‘out’ if you will, an acceptable path to walk away from my crazy, my grief, my dysfunctional manner of functioning after my mother’s nightmare became reality.      I watched their faces upon hearing my words: Listen, I get it. I’m a lot right now. I’m going to be a lot for a while, possibly, for a long while. If you can’t handle me, I get it, no blame, no worries, no explanations necessary.                   I watched as they heard my offer, as to a person, each individual scoffed or waved away my words, as they assured me of their steadfastness.               I have repeated my offer over the years, and their reactions never change; but, there are fewer people to hear it, as I have watched some skulk away...