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I saw a doppelgänger the other day.
It's rare that I get the opportunity to see bands I like: their tour schedules rarely intersect mine. Whenever I get the chance to see a band with more than four songs that I like and a concert ticket I can afford, I jump. And that's why I was at Austin City Limits with adrenaline pumping through my veins watching Breaking Benjamin.
The woman had green hair and a very familiar bone structure, and it took a lot of effort to realize it wasn't Christi. I'm not sure I ever saw Christi with that haircolor but it certainly wouldn't have been out of character, and while it was longer than I remember that certainly would not of been a barrier that time couldn't have changed.
Except that Christi has been dead for years.
I found her again on MySpace, of all places. We had flirted in college, one of those "what if's" that never quite manage to connect. After I moved away we lost touch, until the miracle of early social media came to the rescue. We reconnected, and I called her for a delightful chat that offered future opportunities to get together.
Maybe explore some of those "what if's".
Two weeks later she was gone: killed by the intersection of acute depression and severe diabetes. It's hard to say whether her self-neglect was part of her typical pattern or a more deliberate suicide attempt, but it hardly makes a difference.
I found out when a mutual friend posted the news on her MySpace page. She was the first person whose passing I discovered this way, but she's hardly been the last. Car crashes, cancer, and HIV have taken their toll, and I'm still not sure what the new mores are for public grief.
But I do know that it hurts, even after 10 years and at a rock concert.
It's rare that I get the opportunity to see bands I like: their tour schedules rarely intersect mine. Whenever I get the chance to see a band with more than four songs that I like and a concert ticket I can afford, I jump. And that's why I was at Austin City Limits with adrenaline pumping through my veins watching Breaking Benjamin.
The woman had green hair and a very familiar bone structure, and it took a lot of effort to realize it wasn't Christi. I'm not sure I ever saw Christi with that haircolor but it certainly wouldn't have been out of character, and while it was longer than I remember that certainly would not of been a barrier that time couldn't have changed.
Except that Christi has been dead for years.
I found her again on MySpace, of all places. We had flirted in college, one of those "what if's" that never quite manage to connect. After I moved away we lost touch, until the miracle of early social media came to the rescue. We reconnected, and I called her for a delightful chat that offered future opportunities to get together.
Maybe explore some of those "what if's".
Two weeks later she was gone: killed by the intersection of acute depression and severe diabetes. It's hard to say whether her self-neglect was part of her typical pattern or a more deliberate suicide attempt, but it hardly makes a difference.
I found out when a mutual friend posted the news on her MySpace page. She was the first person whose passing I discovered this way, but she's hardly been the last. Car crashes, cancer, and HIV have taken their toll, and I'm still not sure what the new mores are for public grief.
But I do know that it hurts, even after 10 years and at a rock concert.
