thinking of Rachel

I’ve been meaning to contribute to this blog since its inception, but I have had difficulty finding what I wanted to say. Like most inspiration, the following came to me in the most unlikely of places- Psycho Suzie’s Motor Lounge in Northeast. My friend Marnee was celebrating her 30th birthday there. For those of you not familiar with Minneapolis’ dive bars, Psycho Suzie’s is a tiki bar known for its deliberate bad taste and it killer cocktails. Marnee and I started talking about this guy who used to be engaged to the owner, and who now is a sales rep for a local alcohol distributor (and no longer engaged to the owner). I used to work for the owner, who also owns the well-known Uptown tattoo parlor St. Sabrina’s, and was sharing some colorful stories about my brief tenure as her personal assistant. I started talking about how I missed out on some of the more extreme after-hours partying that went on there. I had found out about how much I missed out only recently. As I was telling my story to Marnee I was trying to remember who I had talked to recently about St. Sabrina’s who had told me about some of the crazed decadence of the after hour St. Sabrina’s world.

The answer sort of hit me all at once. It was Rachel I had talked to about St. Sabrina’s. This realization caught me off guard. It has been long enough for me since Rachel died that it is no longer in the front of my mind, a fact I have to admit I makes me a little uncomfortable (but that is another discussion altogether). No, this memory I had unearthed caught me completely off guard. The person I was casually trying to remember wasn’t just anyone. This wasn’t a person I was going to bump into again at the bar, on a ride, or at a party. This was someone who had just entered my life and was someone I had embraced to the fullest measure, and I was reminded once again that she was gone.

I thought about that conversation Rachel and I had about St. Sabrina’s, and found myself sitting alone at the bar. It fills me with a strange kind of anger when I think how much I wish I could remember more about the conversations we had together over the past year. Because I never thought they were finite and neglected to appreciate them when we were in the moment. But I suppose such regrets must be common enough when a person loses someone they love.

I started thinking about pictures I saw of Rachel in those sad days after her body was recovered from the Mississippi. Pictures that showed other stages in her life. I particularly thought of the pictures of her with short hair, because I imagine those were taken around the time she worked at St. Sabrina’s. I think about how wise she looked then, with her calm zen smile. People always smile in pictures, even those who don’t usually ever smile. Then there are some people whose smiles are incandescent. Rachel’s smile was like that. And in pictures, her smile conveyed the warmth she possessed in person. The memory of those pictures, younger and brasher, with that punky short hair, brought tears to my eyes. As I write this, I am overcome with a grief that I thought I was at peace with.

But that is the power of grief, and the definition of loss, to never fully overcome it. Instead loss takes residence in your soul, and while it doesn’t exist out in the open at all times, it is always there. Not that it is such a bad thing. It reminds you of how important in your silly little life your friends and loved ones are, and it attaches you very closely with a memory and a feeling that, as painful as it may be, brings you closer to the person who is gone.

I wish the best to everyone out there still suffering from the loss of Rachel. Particularly those of you that knew her longer than I did. Because I knew Rachel only a short time, and tonight has reminded me how much I cared about her and the indelible impact she made on me life.

Take care.

Matt Duffin