Yesterday, I returned from yet another trip to Louisville to spend time with some members of my adopted family. For those of you out of the loop, let me fill you in on "the family".
Being a chubby, prepubescent girl in the middle of the suburbs with affinity for all things old, it was quite clear that I wasn't going to be making friends my own age. This is where the internet comes into play. Before MySpace, even, I was on message boards, seeking out friends with similar interests. My particular obsession was The Beatles. This lead me down the roads of MySpace, then later Facebook, which lead me to meeting "the family" in person at a Beatles themed festival in Louisville, Kentucky called Abbey Road on the River.
All of a sudden, I had a network of support scattered all over the world. If I were ever feeling blue, or lonely, or down on myself, I would just open up the window for the internet, and be surrounded by all of my friends. Once a year we would gather for a week and have Beatle summer camp, basically. No one judged you here. Everyone loved. It's what I imagined a real life family reunion would be like. At the time of my discovery of these beautiful people, my life at home was not ideal. My parents had split up a few years prior, and my dad had married a particularly nasty breed of woman. It was only natural to seek out surrogate parents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles to supplement the void I felt. This is where they came in.
In 2010, I kept seeing a name pop up in my "People You May Know" section on Facebook. We had hundreds of mutual friends, so I sent her a friend request. Her name was Carla, and I had vaguely remembered seeing her face around the year before. I later came to find out that Carla mentioned to her long time love and soulmate, Jim: "This really young girl added me on Facebook. But she's got some really nice shoes!" And thus, a new Beatle mom was born.
Over the course of the next four years, I spent several nights with Momma Carla and Poppa Jim as I dubbed them. We went and saw shows together, met up for dinner whenever they were in Nashville, and kept in touch. I even had a key to their house at one point. In February of this year, I had just made a huge life change, and was celebrating that along with the Beatles' 50th Anniversary with a small section of the family in Kentucky. There was a moment where Carla saw our reflections in the glass window of the ballroom we were in, and I remember her trying to get the lighting just right to capture the moment on her phone. We drank, we danced, and we talked about how happy she was to be healed from her previous injury that left her arm in a cast.
Three weeks later, I found myself in Carla and Jim's house. Carla had been diagnosed with a rather nasty case of cancer. I felt absolutely thrown for a loop. My Beatle family doesn't go away. They're the only stability I am guaranteed in this life. Why was this happening to her? Like a dutiful daughter, I drove the three hours to come see her, and I will treasure the few days I was there. She had a wound vac that she had to carried around (she christened it "Mona") and we joked about bedazzling it so it would be more Carla-appropriate. I found it so funny, and so like her that even laid up in bed, she still wanted to make sure I noticed her new pedicure, and she wanted to hear about the date I went on the night before, asking me if he was too old like the rest of them, and did he have a job? With her stitches, blood, guts, and packed wounds, she was still more concerned about me. We binge watched "Orange is the New Black" for two days, and I came back home.
Fast forward to another three weeks. I am in the hospital of the University of Louisville the week of Abbey Road on the River. It didn't seem right. How on earth could the festival go on with one of my moms in a hospital bed? Our friend, and absolute saint, Jill was sitting with her, and we joked about busting her out of there so she could at least see The Beach Boys on Sunday night. Even in the state she was in, she was still concerned that I saw her sparkly sandals, kept her up on the latest gossip in my life, and told me she loved me. That was the last time I saw her alive.
Another three weeks go by, and I found myself in a remote part of Kentucky. I sat with some of the family in a pew at her funeral. And just yesterday, I returned from the most beautiful celebration of her life. Jill graciously opened her home to everyone, and we ate, drank, danced, and cried. Oh, how we cried. I have never felt more gracious to know a human being than I did in that moment. Here we were, a house full of people from all walks of life, all crying, holding each other, and laughing over the life of one person.
The next day, I was one of the first ones awake. I looked at Jill's wall in her entryway. She has everyone that walks through the door sign her wall. Consider it a yearbook of sorts. As I finished scribbling my note, I looked over and saw where Carla had signed:
And it brought me a tremendous amount of comfort. ALWAYS together. Nothing could ever separate us. We were still a family in spite of distance, time zones, and money. Why would one of us on the other side change that?
On the way home, I was playing back the conversations in my head I had with everybody. This has not been an easy year for anybody I know by any means. There have been deaths, divorces, huge financial loss, and much more. As I started to tear up a bit, I popped in Revolver into the CD player. Carla's favorite Beatles was George, and as most of you know, the opening track is "Taxman"--a bonafide George track. As I skipped over to the song I wanted to hear, the heavens opened up, and it started to pour. I'm talking, violently pour. Without thinking, I looked up and said "Gee, Carla, I know that George is your favorite. If I go back to 'Taxman', will you knock it off?" and as I went back to Track 1, the rain immediately ceased, the clouds parted, and the sun shone brighter than it had all day.
That's our girl. Always.
A special thank you to Jill for letting me and the rest of the motley crew crash at your pad. Thanks to Bea for the glorious vegan food, to Misty and Jeff for the beautiful tunes that I hopefully didn't destroy too badly with my drumming, and to the rest of my family for giving me what no one else has ever been able to. Remember: No matter where you roam, know our love is true.
Amazing, Payton ..... Amazing.
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