Sometime in the weeks after she died, but before the funeral, Lauren asks me what I’ve been listening to “lots of Emily Wells?”  

I tell her, I haven’t been listening to anything. 

When I return home it’s vinyl I want. 

I need something to mark time, 

I need to be reminded to stand. 

Bright Eyes

Conor Oberst 

I start with the first two solo albums, over and over and over. Then Lifted (because I don’t have I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning on vinyl). 

then it’s

The Beatles

I’m so tired I’m feeling so upset

Tom Waits

Nighthawks at the Diner

Real Gone

The C Side of Real Gone over and over and over

Lay your head where my heart used to be hold the earth above me lay down in the green grass remember when you loved me

In early summer, I submit a chaotic, give a fuck, true—good application for a promotion 

and it’s 

Mitski

My Body is Made of Crushed Little Stars

I better ace that interview I better ace that interview I should tell them that I’m not afraid to die 

over and over and over

Something you learn when your mom dies —especially if music was your moms love language—is that every break up song is really a song about dead moms

When you go take this heart I’ll make no more use of it when there’s no more you 

In July, I stumble upon Patti Smith covering Lana del Rey’s Summertime Sadness and my heart breaks over and over. 

Jesus this fucking song, the way she sings it. 

I think I’ll miss you forever 

Nothing scares me anymore

It will become the song of my summer

Fall brings Fleetwood Mac,

Silver Springs not really for the words, more for the distress 

You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loved you 

The year winds down, the days shorten

I drive towards a near solstice sunset

Paloma Negra Paloma Negra

Chevala’s voice carrying all the hurt I cannot contain as I drive toward the future, toward the horizon, toward loss

but also,

in the distance

glimmers

joy

I want more