Wait for It

“Death doesn’t discriminate

Between the sinners and the saints

It takes and it takes and it takes

And we keep living anyway

We rise and we fall and we break

And we make our mistakes

And if there’s a reason I’m still alive

When everyone who loves me has died

I’m willing to wait for it.

I’m willing to wait for it…”

—From “Wait for It” from Hamilton: The Musical

This year, I decided to relisten to Hamilton. I was a very different person when I first listened through it, and much more than I would have even thought possible back then, my life has grown far more difficult. I have been through so much since, and that recontextualized much of how I felt upon this relisten. The song that felt the most different was “Wait for It.” 

It’s sung by the character Aaron Burr, who has gone through much pain and suffering, yet stands firm, waiting patiently for fate to show him why he’s still here. I related much more to Hamilton when I was younger—restless, refusing to wait for fate to come find me and searching for it myself, constantly feeling like the underdog that must strive to “change the game” just to have a fighting chance, that feeling of constant forwards movement—but now I see a lot of myself in Burr too. 

Burr’s questioning of death and purpose for still living is something I relate to very much now. I have lost a lot of loved ones, and their deaths hang heavily over me, leading me to a lot of questioning. In my next post, I intend to talk about my ruminations on death, but for now, death itself.

My grandfather on my dad’s side passed away in 2014, an event that greatly affected that entire side of the family. I knew my grandpa, but I never spent enough time with him to see the great man that everyone talks about. He was a preacher and a bishop, perhaps similar to Burr’s own grandfather. His wisdom and intelligence are highly touted, things I never got to experience from him because of my age. His death did not affect me greatly because I did not know him well, but I experienced shame at not feeling sad about it. I watched everyone around me seem devastated, but I didn’t feel much of anything and it made me wonder if something was wrong with me. 

This was the last death for a long time, until 2022 rolled around. It was an incredibly difficult time, with my family being the poorest we had been in many years and many things occurring to compound our financial issues. We had two cars break down to the point of being unworthy of repair, and the one car we still had would often refuse to start for an undiagnosable reason. Our sink began to leak, our dishwasher died, and our washer broke too. We didn’t have the money to fix the washer, therefore we used the laundromat. Because of our finances, my father stopped his college classes (I believe he was pursuing a Master of Divinity) and began working three jobs at once, with me and my older sister spending much time ferrying him around or running other errands on his behalf while he was busy. My sister and I were both working full time and I was taking two online summer classes at SCC, as well as saving up to buy a car so that I could attend SCC in person that fall. Despite our personal busyness, My sister and I were tasked with taking the family’s clothes to the laundromat, then bringing these wet clothes back home to be dried in our drier (which still worked) to save money. Things at home were not the greatest either. My mother’s health weighed heavily on us all, there was a growing tension between us children and my dad (a complex story I may tell another time), and of course everything deciding to break down too. It was during this time of high stress in our home, right about two weeks before my fall semester started, when my Nana’s health began to greatly decline. We were all too busy to go visit her, too worried about putting food on the table or buying a car or getting prepared for my first real semester of college, too distracted by our lives falling apart.

It was the week before school started. I had found a car and was desperately trying to buy it. Part of my anxiousness came from the fear that I would not have a car when school started, but some of it also came from wanting to be able to drive myself to go see her. I never got to see her, but I got to talk to her on the phone one last time. I made promises to her that I have kept. I bought my car the day after she died. I started my fall semester the day after I bought my car. Obviously different than Burr’s parents dying, but I relate to the tragedy of such loss. If my life were a song, the months leading up to this event were the buildup, the week of her death was a grand crescendo, and me starting college was a subito piano—a sudden return to quiet. The symphony would have temporary rest, yet the song was not done.

I moved out of my parent’s house in December of 2022. I was getting paid very well because I was working overnight shifts, which paid extra. After a stressful move and a stressful spring semester, summer of 2023 rolled around. I was working 60+ hours a week that summer, trying to pay off my car and rebuild my savings. I was not doing as well mentally as I thought I was, and staying busy helped me avoid thinking about it. Not very Burr-like. 

That summer, my mom’s dad, we called him Poppy, died somewhat suddenly. I was close with him, about as close as I was with Nana. I got to see him before he died, and made promises to him that I have kept. He was a good man, very influential in his community, and so many people I didn’t know came to the funeral to talk about how great he was. Like Burr, I began to think a lot more about death (and it takes and it takes and it takes) and I began to think about legacy (it’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see) and I began to wonder why the universe hated us so much. Why we had been cursed with so much suffering. I began to question why I was still here despite all the pain, why I was “still alive when so many who loved me had died”. My mental state had once again taken a strong hit; yet, I still stood up against the “High Storm’s” hurricane, standing at the edge of the abyss, willing to wait for it to all make sense. 

HAMMOND AND HAMILTON
Non-Stop
Legacy
Unfinished Symphony
Intermezzo
Wait for It
Hurricane
The Eye
Memento Mori (Warning: suicide)
High Storm/The Unimaginable
La Fine/Pain=Creativity