Privacy

Today I wade through the piles of stuff in Colby's room and pull out one of his computers. He has several, some of which I know do not work. In trying to sort through things I am beginning to test electronics to see what is viable and what is not, what I should keep (for now) and what I can get rid of.

This computer fires right up. It is one I gave him several years ago and he has been storing music files on it. Lots of music files that he produced or composed. I open one file, then another. It seems an invasion of his privacy and it makes me uncomfortable. But it has to be done. Colby was quite talented, but his music was not everyone's cup of tea. It is politically driven with lots of metal. But I have lived in Nashville far too long not to realize it is good. Very good. Some songs I have heard before, over and over as he developed riffs and licks and intros and outros. Day after day, sometimes stretching into weeks, the same song again and again until he got it just right. Other songs I have not heard before. Some are other bands he recorded, many of the songs, both his and other musicians, are partially done.

This entire process of going through his things leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It is likely to be there for a while as I am months away from finishing.  I know I have read writings he never intended for me to read, but it must be read for me to know what it is. Is it important enough to save? Does someone else want it? Should it be thrown? I have discussed this before, but in this case I want to say it feels like spying, snooping.

We all leave stuff behind: papers, music, art, books that indicate who we are, where our interests lie, what is important to us. It is a way for those left behind to piece our lives together. But we also leave behind lots of "stuff" that means nothing. Unless we specifically state, it is up to our survivors to figure out which is which. And, we can't possible get it right all the time. So if you have things that are important to you, please let someone know what they are. I can easily sort many of Colby's things. But if a specific piece of jewelry, a rock, a ticket stub had sentimental value or he just happened to drop it on his dresser, I do not know. I am much more equipped today than I was a few months ago to make these determinations. I have pieced much together. But there is much I will never know. And that makes me very, very sad.