Thursday, July 20, 2017

A Birthday Letter to Chris Cornell by Xana La Fuente



Dear Chris,

You left my world a long time ago, and I never understood why. Now that you're really gone, a lot of your behavior makes sense to me, but I'm also left with many questions. Myself, your family, friends and fans want to know why. What was so horrible in your life that you chose to end it? 


I only remember being with you on one of your birthdays. It was a few days after you finished the original version of Wooden Jesus. The one you lost and asked me years later if I still had my copy. I had teased you about once again locking yourself in our bolier room for the day. I said "How did you make the drum sounds with no drums?" and you refused to share your boiler room studio secrets.


The Chris I knew looked like this, no mustache. 

We went to our usual park that night and you helped me find my "Bill gloves" so I could play rambunctiously with Bill the Dog. We didn't have much back then, so I didn't buy you a present. You said, "Well you can buy the booze then," so I got you some green label Jack Daniels, your favorite. 


What we did have was our future. You and Susan and me and Andy. Our friends, like Eric and Britt who were with us that night, we all had choices. We had the choice to marry or not marry. To play music or have a "regular job." The world was our oyster!  
You made the choice to leave Seattle, get married again, have  more children. Why do this, blow off all your friends here and family and then end your seemingly perfect life, thus ending your wife's life as she knew it, and your kids, leaving them without a dad?

This gesture and dismissal of any caring of other people's feelings, we will never understand.  There's that side,  but then one can look at their own life and feel the same way. Just today, I was thinking "What the fuck am I doing? Why am I doing all this for?" It's not hard to think "Fuck everyone, they don't appreciate shit I do." I look in the mirror and all I see is a wrinkle under another wrinkle! I do so much to try to make so many people happy, yet I am alone...all the time.



When Andy died I didn't do anything I should do. And did everything I should not. Since you took the time to tell the world how it bothered you that I kept Andy alive until you got to the hospital, I guess I should say sorry. I have relived those three days and I sometimes wish I had told no one and not allowed his family and the band to be part of saying goodbye. I could have. I could have said nothing and let them all, including you, read it in the paper.
But something tells me that's not how you really felt. I have a deep feeling,  and a constant voice telling me there were many times it wasn't "you" saying the words you spoke, but someone else's. Still, I forgive you. I have to, because I will never get to hear you sing in person again, hear you say "Hi Xana" and see that coy smile, or run around with you in the many parks of Seattle that were our own private playgrounds for years. 
What I really want to know, what I need to know, is if you knew what the outcome would be. Did you think about it and know what kind of reaction your friends and family may have? Do you care? Are Andy and the others with you or are you someplace else?  Are you someplace you can care or are you laying in mud in the dark, taken by the sloth demon to the darkness? No one will ever know. Not now, and maybe not even when they die.



Today, your friend Chester hung himself, as you did. What would you say if it was he who had done this first? How would it affect you? Or were you so far removed from your own feelings to see, to really see? You were helping so many people, and you took that away when you took your life. 
It was a beautiful day today in Seattle. I thought about going to where we used to swim. If I could say to you one last thing it would be this, before you think of your pain today, think of other people's pain tomorrow. Before you decide you cannot go on, take a look back at your choices and take responsibility for the life you created. And if you can hear us,  Reach down Chris, like you so boldly asked Andy to.

Reach down and touch each person who is suffering and lead them not your way, but into the light of the here and now on God's great earth.

I wish there was something I could have done or said to change your mind. Selfishly, I wish you had never left Seattle.  And last of all, just so you know, dude... I totally miss you....





 
This blog is for followers of Xanaland. I cannot stop chode editors of other websites who can't seem to come up with original material and their "hard work" is reporting what is on other websites and copying people's private Facebook posts and Instagram and Twitter posts (you know who you are!) Do what you want but I am calling you out as a 1st class chode if you republish this! 



For Peter


If you or someone you know needs to  talk to a professional who knows how to deal with suicidal thoughts and how to manage them, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline  1-800-273-8255


Xana La Fuente was engaged to Andrew Wood of Mother Love Bone who passed away in 1990. She is a writer, artist, mother, and currently resides in West Seattle with her fiance and chihuahua. To contact her privately about submitting to this blog site please email her at xanalandsite@gmail.com