It was December 30th, 2009. The familiar, always out-of-tune chimes of Happy Birthday filled the room. The notes, if you could call them notes, bounced off walls. I was fifteen and, fairly happy because all I could think about was “I’m going to be done with middle school!” I was surrounded by my friends and family. Each and every one of them wishing me happiness.
At the same time, practically on the other side of the world, Rowland S. Howard died. “So what?” you may ask. I would have asked myself that, too, if I knew who he was back then.
Two weeks ago, Monday February 27th 2012. The day had gone, more or less, like it was supposed to. I kept my head up as high as any head could go with that little sleep. I did what I had to do, and went home. I was laying on the cool gray sheets of my bed staring out the window. I had the radio on. The songs played one after the other. I watched the clock tick in time with some punk song I really liked at the time, bored of it all. Then another song came on.
“I’ve been contemplating suicide,
Though it doesn’t really suit my style,
So I think I’ll just act bored instead,
And contain the blood I would have shed. “
In that moment my head popped up like a hungry meerkat from the hole that was my mundane life. That voice was singing out to me, telling me to come closer, telling me to find it. So naturally, I did what I always do during a time of exploration and discovery. I read.
I read how he wrote the song I had just heard, “Shivers”, when he was only seventeen. And how he toured with Nick Cave and The Birthday Party all over the world but above all, I read that he died on December 30th, 2009.
My entire fifteenth birthday flashed before my eyes again. Everyone was there, everything was normal expect for the fact, I saw Rowland Howard standing outside the window looking in. He seemed so far away and yet, so close. He smiled that silly, smokers teeth crooked half smile and waved. I guess that’s how the dead say Happy Birthday.
After learning when he died, I realized that every moment that we have means something. Everything that we do, in joy and in sorrow, is important because most of us aren’t sure when our it’s our time. Howard made me realize that better than anyone could.
So, thank you Rowland. Thank you for the music and the sudden realizations
This post was published in the spring edition of a literary magazine at my high school called Elan.
