The other day Michelle and Stephanie decided they were going to organize the cabinet in the living room where I’d crammed our hundreds of CDs. Their work gave me motivation to pull out some of the old tunes –
A little Chicago:
Everybody needs a little time away, I heard her say, from each other… even lovers need a holiday, far away from the one that I love…
As I was heading out for a three-hour drive to Charlotte last week I grabbed a handful of nostalgia and began listening – and singing – hadn’t forgotten a single word.
I do well with my grief now. I’m not wallowing in it. I seldom cry about my loss. I’ve done a pretty good job, nearing the four-year anniversary, of putting my life back together. My counselor told me it would take that long.
But sometimes, I just need to miss her.
As I cruised down I-85, one song socked me in the gut. It was about desperately loving someone.
I could tell from the onset that listening to it was going to be emotional. I knew if I listened to it I was going to fall apart. Not slightly tear up, no, this was going to be significant.
Oddly, I played the song all the way through. And I cried. And I missed her. And I played it through again, and again, and again.
When, on occasion, I go to that place, I generally swallow hard – fight it back. But on that day, something inside me said go ahead… miss her. It’s OK. Get it out.
It didn’t ruin my day, nor my week. I didn’t get stuck there. I’m still moving on. I’m still really happy.
I just temporarily needed to feel, to feel that sad again.
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