Accepting Harlan

                                        "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive"

In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky

That's the place where I traced my bloodline

And it's there I read on a hillside gravestone

You'll never leave Harlan alive

Full Song

Something about the haunting tone of this country song has always resonated with me.  I couldn't put my finger on what that something was until today.  It wasn't the fact that it references a small town from which few people escape.  Though, given my complicated relationship with Nebraska, that would make sense.  

Here's what it is.  At it's heart, this song is about inescapable fate.  It's about that thing you don't think you will ever overcome no matter how much you want to or how hard you try.  I believe that at some point in every person's life, they will have at least one moment like that.

My friend Brian's suicide is my Harlan.

Today, I was packing up my things at the coffee shop where I sometimes work, and the song "Amazing Grace" shuffled up next on my playlist.  I was immediately swept back to another Sunday, almost exactly ten years ago, when I stood in front of my congregation singing that exact same song.  I looked out on the sea of sleepy smiles and spotted five grey, breathless faces.  They knew what I'd known since 7:30 that morning.  They knew what everyone else would know in a matter of minutes.  Something beautiful had been destroyed, and none of us would ever be the same.  

The next song, you can guess what one, landed me safely back in 2015, and all of the sudden the words made sense.  For six months after Brian died, I felt dead too.  For the rest of that first year, I felt painfully alive.  I felt like everything and everyone I loved might crumble before my eyes at any moment, and that constant fear left me paralyzed.  I was sure life would never be the same, and I would never be happy again.

I was half right. I've never left Harlan.  Honestly, I hope I never do.  I never want to stop missing Brian.  I never want to become numb to the painful memories that accompany each September 18th.  

However, I have learned how to be alive in Harlan.  

I realize this part smacks of George Bailey, but hang with me if you will.  I'm no longer afraid of Harlan.  I've overcome paralysis, I've stabilized the relationships I know are solid, and I've accepted that others will inevitably crumble.  Most importantly, I've learned the difference between living and being alive.  Regardless of where I am, I will eventually stop living.  It's just nice to know that when I do, I'll be in Harlan - alive.