Friday, June 11, 2010

This is My Song


I may have reached some sort of turning point along this tearful journey.  I can even see this blog coming to an end (to be replaced by another) by the time June gets here and my First Official Year as a Widow is over.  I ran errands this morning, dogs in tow, and when I was leaving the Fed Ex store, Petula Clark’s This is my Song, came on the radio. It was one of Clint’s favorites, and I suddenly felt as though I could not drive the car, so I pulled into another parking place and dropped my head down on the ridiculous eelskin-covered steering wheel in Clint’s car and wept as though he had just died yesterday.  Tears dripped onto my sunglasses until I took them off and then they dripped onto my pants.  I heaved and moaned and didn’t care if anyone saw me.  And no, I didn’t turn off the song.  I embraced my grief and my tears and heard it through to the last note.  It became my song and I could feel each word and note pulse through me.  When it was over, I used about six tissues to blow my nose and clear my vision so I could go on.  And go on, I did.  I had one stop before coming home and I polished my sunglasses and walked into Kroger to buy a pill splitter and some Cetaphil.  Then I drove home and put away all the shit I bought and started cleaning my house and washing sheets.

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