This morning my stomach is more upset than usual and my throat is quite sore. I slept late too, letting Audrey sleep late, which means she’ll have a hard time napping again.
I have the song I found in your computer- the one you wrote, recorded in our house, and played piano and cello so beautifully on- in my head today. I love the version where you yourself laid down the vocals even though you labeled it “badvocals” because you meant it just as a placeholder for the guy you intended to sing it. It’s my favorite version.
“Baby how I miss our laughter,
is this another chapter,
in our little sad love story?
Wondering if you took a jacket,
walking hand in pocket,
my heart is not all the way empty.”
I’m pretty sure I know exactly when you wrote those words- when we were living in Brooklyn and had gotten in a fight. I left or you left the apartment to go walk around and calm down. Before I would’ve thought the last line, “My heart is not all the way empty” was awkward, but now I see it is child-like and pure.
Some people have told me it’s hard to read my blog entries because it makes them feel bad about their marriage. Ha. We had a volatile and dramatic relationship from the start. A ” little sad love story” as you said. But our hearts I guess, were never “all the way empty.” And how ironic and unfair that with your death, mine has filled to overflowing. I hope yours has too.
I was singing this song at breakfast- it’s the one that I chose as the slideshow music at your funeral- right after I’d gotten up and given my own tribute to you. Audrey was in the front row running around in a little flowered dress, pointing at your photo above the casket. As I sang the song this morning, she pointed at me with recognition, “Video!” She was quite excited about it. I was shocked that she would remember because I don’t think she was paying a ton of attention at the time and it was over a month ago, but maybe she has your ear for music. That would be lovely.
My parents have taken Audrey to her gym class and I’m trying to think what the best use of my time is. When you have a child, you’re often torn when you do get these chunks of time to yourself- do I clean, do I run errands, or do I just relax? Something you rarely get to do with an active toddler. Now the choice I make seems even more important and crucial to our survival.
It’s amazing how fresh your death can be to me each day. I know it in my head, but wonder when the soul-knowing will come. I am still only catching glimpses of it- that our life here together has so abruptly ended.
I decide I’ll have a cup of strong English tea with extra honey to soothe my throat. When the water boils, the kettle whistles angrily. After I pour my tea, I place it back on the hot stove with lid closed and let it scream a while longer.