deep in the ocean, there lies a wave for you

In January, we waited for more cancer to grow on Clark’s lung so that we could harvest it to make the treatment that was supposed to save him. He played a show at Rock and Roll Hotel on January 10. On February 20, he was admitted to the hospital for an emergency surgery in which they pulled a baseball-sized tumor out of his gut. I had to stuff his belly wound with packing gauze for weeks following the operation. Friday. March 27, was my birthday party at Pharmacy. It was the last time Clark ever went out to a bar. He hobbled the entire way there; the pain was just beginning to slow down his walking. In April, he had crutches, and we discovered the cancer was everywhere. We went before a panel of doctors at NIH and begged them to treat him even though doing so would put his life at risk. At this point, he could no longer walk. They decided to send him to get last-resort chemo in late April/early May. He was on his off-week for chemo the week of May 8 – 15. During that week, his belly swelled to extremes, and Jon carried him down the steps out of our apartment for the last time. On May 17, we found out the chemo wasn’t working, and we told him on the 18th. From May 18 to June 16, he knew he was without a doubt going to die and that the fight was over. On June 15, he closed his eyes for the last time. I wedged myself between him and the metal bars of the hospice bed that night, watched an episode of “Sex and the City” and eventually fell asleep with the help of one of his prescription Ativan. During his last lucid conversation, though, all he wanted was for me to promise him that the second Statehood record would see a release.

On March 19, Clark told both Jon and Spencer that he was going to propose to me. I only found out about that after he died. One day during his final week, I was rubbing his legs at the foot of his bed, and the sun fell through the pulled blinds, lighting my profile. He started to cry. “You’re so beautiful, you look like an angel,” he said.  “And I can’t believe I have to leave you. I’m going to miss you so much.”

Clark loved OCTOPI. His next tattoo would’ve been a big strangling octopus on his arm. He settled for a shirt I bought him for our first Christmas:

I opened this yesterday:

Christmas accomplished! Cried, drank champagne and snugged a pup – all before noon.

I think it’s the hardest on days like today because I’m thrown into the mix with people who aren’t normally around and don’t know how to treat me.

In fact, yoga lady said, “That is a fine-lookin’ wheel.”

and told stories and drank wine and ate homemade pasta and cookies and that’s the way it should be. there was even a bottle of tequila to pass around. he woulda been proud.

I have an editing test to do for a job today, and stuffed mushrooms and cookies to make, and that’s good, because I woke up this morning and felt like someone had taken the fact that it’s Clark’s birthday, which feels like it weighs a million pounds, and beat me over the face with it.

Comforts: I went through my old CD book from college. In it: Badly Drawn Boy, Electric Soft Parade, Elliott Smith live shows, Pernice Brothers, Teenage Fanclub (also tons of Counting Crows and what Jessica and Sarah agreed is the biggest offense: John Mayer’s first record). The fact that this editing test is hard and I really have to concentrate. Lots of coffee in my brand new Baby Joey mug.

I did it.  I looked at the back entries in the Google Calendar. So much Andalusians practice in 2007. And driving my friend to Dulles today reminded me of the time I drove Clark’s passport to Dulles in October two years ago, when he was supposed to go to Paris to visit his sister with his mom and missed the flight. And I wasn’t sad because I had never wanted him to leave our little world in the first place. We went and ate Thai food in Fairfax and went to the Galaxy Hut and didn’t go to the Cat for an entire week because he had told everyone there he was going to Paris on vacation! During that week they didn’t even have Statehood practice, he was so embarrassed. So we had a vacation in the city.

Statehood played at the Black Cat the night before Thanksgiving and I was so excited. I sent an email out to all my friends. That may have been the best night of my life — Clark was never good at remembering lyrics so we came up with little tricks that I would perform in the audience so the next phrase would click. I held my hands up for “pick up this banner lead this false parade.” He could never remember that line.

Clark went to see “The Golden Compass” in theaters with me on opening night. He started working at the Black Cat again. All of these things are recorded on the Google Calender! And all by him. Seeing these events there, set in Internet stone, brings a big wave of flashbacks.