Last Friday was the 30th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death.
As a tribute to honor her dad, she posted several photos to her Instagram, including the caption:
30 years ago my dad’s life ended. The 2nd & 3rd photo capture the last time we were together while he was still alive. His mom Wendy would often press my hands to her cheeks & say, with a lulling sadness, “you have his hands”. She would breathe them in as if it were her only chance to hold him just a little bit closer, frozen in time. I hope she’s holding his hands wherever they are. In the last 30 years my ideas around loss have been in a continuous state of metamorphosing. The biggest lesson learned through grieving for almost as long as I’ve been conscious, is that it serves a purpose. The duality of life & death, pain & joy, yin & yang, need to exist along side each other or none of this would have any meaning. It is the impermanent nature of human existence which throws us into the depths of our most authentic lives. As It turns out, there is no greater motivation for leaning into loving awareness than knowing everything ends.
I wish I could’ve known my Dad. I wish I knew the cadence of his voice, how he liked his coffee or the way it felt to be tucked in after a bedtime story. I always wondered if he would’ve caught tadpoles with me during the muggy Washington summers, or if he smelled of Camel Lights & strawberry nesquik (his favorites, I’ve been told). But there is also deep wisdom being on an expedited path to understanding how precious life is. He gifted me a lesson in death that can only come through the LIVED experience of losing someone. It’s the gift of knowing for certain, when we love ourselves & those around us with compassion, with openness, with grace, the more meaningful our time here inherently becomes.
Kurt wrote me a letter before I was born. The last line of it reads, “wherever you go or wherever I go, I will always be with you.” He kept this promise because he is present in so many ways. Whether it’s by hearing a song or through the hands we share, in those moments I get to spend a little time with my dad & he feels transcendent. ✨
To anyone who has wondered what it would’ve looked like to live along side the people they have lost, I’m holding you in my thoughts today. The meaning of our grief is the same 🕊️🌅
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