February 13, 2014 § 2 Comments
the death of my grandmother, the only grandparent i’ve ever known. 94 years of nerves and will of steel. she outlived her husband and three of her children. never one to back down, she ruffled feathers — even ours. there’s so much more i’ve yet to learn from her; and of course, i realise this, selfishly, after she’s no longer here. what a cliche. can’t escape this life that keeps giving you people and taking them away. time out of joint, always; everyone leaves too soon.
i learned yesterday that stuart hall also left us on february 10. i’d always hoped (dreamed, wished) that i would be able to meet him. what would i have said to him? nothing. what could i have said? it would have been enough to be in his presence, i think, or to be in the same room with his voice. maybe in another life, as they say. the first time i read stuart hall, it was in andrew burke’s critical theory class at the university of winnipeg. it was “notes on deconstructing the popular”, and something lit up in me. a way of thinking that didn’t seem possible before. there’s no way to describe it without sounding unbelievably maudlin, but there was no going back after stuart hall.
it occurred to me that my grandmother was living in london at a time when she and hall might have crossed paths. what if they did, i keep asking myself. this thought makes me ridiculously happy, and i refuse to stop imagining it to be true.