At Some Point

At some point, when you hear bad news, you have to step away from the computer. Log off of Facebook, resist the urge to Tweet. If you must, e-mail your friends and tell them how much you love them, At that point, you're allowed to crawl into bed. Try to distract yourself by reading, and fail horribly. Close your eyes, and mentally use Mardi Gras beads as a rosary, saying a prayer for the deceased and the still-living, every bead a person that you are grateful for. Try to listen to Tangled Up In Blue because you can't convey to anyone else how that song reminds you of your guitar teacher patiently helping your lazy ass figure out how to play it, singing it with you and letting you carry it because who else other than a 16 year old girl would attach so much importance to Bob Dylan's song about love and loss and changes. When you sleep, you dream of driving to funerals. Wake up and say another fake rosary round for the living. Think of the day years ago driving with your father down to the Williams River, meeting at a picnic table under trees with red leaves, close to dark but not quite there, playing a few tunes before the real action. Playing music in the cabin with wild men and moonshine that somehow keeps missing you.

You lose these things on Facebook. The real memories get caught in with everyone else's pictures of kittens and political posts. It's impossible to convey what one person meant to you in 140 characters. You need to let yourself be filled with love and sadness and not filtered through the internet. Get out your guitar and play. Call your loved ones. Cry if needed. Listen to Tangled Up in Blue and get transported to a time and a place and an age. Do what you need to do to honor a mentor and a friend.

Rest in peace, Alan Dutchess.