A long day come to an end--October 27, Pamela and Is wedding anniversary. It would have been our 42nd, and it was my second absent my beautiful, kind, loving, and compassionate wife. I thought about her nearly every minute of the day, taking flowers and a card to her grave site. We met in the fall of 1971 at the University of Illinois, during a fall much like this one has been--warm, sunny, radiant with colors shining from the sun-soaked trees and glimmering from flowers spared from frost that came much later than usual. Pamela was a indescribable vision when I first laid eyes upon her at the political science registration table in the U of I Armory--dressed in her Hang Ten shirt matched perfectly to her shorts, accentuated by a tan and a smile that captivated every fiber of my heart and soul. So I happily steered her into my Friday section of Poli Sci 150, American government. Needless to say, I looked forward to seeing her sitting in the back corner of class each week, welcomed her frequent comments, enjoyed that smile and her infectious laughter at the humor interspersed into what I know were overly serious, studious lectures and comments about the state of government in the country back then. As I have written before, my reactions to the state of affairs locally, nationally, and internationally during those times had me headed down a road promising no happy end. It turned out that putting that beautiful young woman in my class was the best decision I made then and ever, because over the next few months she steered me into a totally different direction--one in which she figured as the prominent center of my life then and for the next forty plus years. I loved that woman, promised myself to her for the rest of her and my life, stayed at her side through thick and thin, good and bad, happy as well as the sad. I expected many more years with her, but for whatever unfathomable reason know only to God and universe, she was taken from me and from us in our family. I have spent nearly two years now trying to understand this unspeakable twist to my life, and I can honestly say that I dont grasp any more now than I did at its beginning. Nor am I any more reconciled to it than I was one year, nine months, and 26 days ago. Anyway, I took roses and a card to her grave today just as I have done once or twice or sometimes three times nearly every week since Pamela died. I write and leave letters or poems, or often the lyrics of songs that tell something of what I feel or experience without her beside and with me. Today it was lyrics from my latest ear worm, Tift Merritts The Things that Everybody Does. This song resonates for me and about us because back in our beginning, we both suffered from people who told us who we had to be. Pamela believed me when I told her the opposite--that she could and should be who she wanted to be. And so just like the song, she searched across the country clear down to the beaches of the Pacific Ocean, she spoke to the sun and the sky, and having taken me along, she spoke and listened further to what my heart and soul had to say to her. More than anything else, they professed how much I had from the first moment and how I would love her unfailingly to the last. Over the next 40 years I and we did all the things written about in this song. There were walks and singing to the leaves of every season. I wrote and read love letters to her, and there were children, dogs, cats, and even horses gracing our life under our own magical stars and beneath our own unicorn-inhabited forests. And like in the song, I knew nothing of this until there was my Pammy Sue, my love, my wife, the mother of the children who shared life and fulfilled her fondest dream. Pamelas sister Glenda and her husband stopped overnight on their way to Colorado last night, and we had breakfast this morning at IHOP before they left. I sat there with this song playing in my head, and having sat up way to late talking to Glenda about how much we each missed her sister, it occurred to me how nice it would be if I, too, could simply strap whatever was needed to m chest or back and fly, fly away. But breakfast wasnt over, and I knew that I couldnt--that I wouldnt. It was after all a decent enough morning, but it was nothing like and not nearly as lovely as each and every one of those when there was you, Pamela Sue. Happy anniversary! How I wish you were here, knowing all these years and especially now how I didnt really understand much of anything until there was you. So anyone reading this and who gets this far, consider Tift Merritts The Things that Everybody Does both in lyrics and in her simple performance below: Everybody told me, This is who you have to be. With my hands in my pockets deep as they’d go, I walked home and packed up my cases to leave. I searched all over the country. I went down to the sea. I talked a lot with the sun and sky. I didn’t talk with anyone else really. There are the things that everybody does. I was wondering what was all the fuss. I couldn’t tell exactly why it was, Till there was you. You found me up in attic, Singing down to leaves. You caught me reading love letters aloud, To horses and children, to stars and to trees. There are the things that everybody does. I was wondering what was all the fuss. I never knew exactly what it was, Till there was you. But a mountain is still a mountain. A mountain goes to the sea, No matter what I’d like to pretend, No matter what I’d like it to be. You know I don’t have to stay here. I could fly off and leave, On the wings from a unicorn’s breast, With my typewriter strapped with diamonds to my chest, But how could I go with breakfast not over yet? These are the things that everybody does. I was wondering what was all the fuss, But what a lovely morning that it was When there was you. https://youtube/watch?v=A22gbRyaDGo
Posted on: Tue, 28 Oct 2014 07:07:47 +0000