It was mid afternoon of a rather laid back day. I was watching the John Denver fund raiser on WUSF and they were featuring the words and how he came to write them of some of his best known. Annie's song came up -- as I paid very close attention to the words, a sadness and lonliness and acrimony welled up. I wept as I thought of how much the words described Margaret to me. Soon after, I found myself in the middle of some really tough "if only's". As much as I love music, enjoyed singing and performing, why did I stifle that? There are so many songs that we listened to, enjoyed, and cuddled to -- and I didn't sing them to her, or tell her how the words were what I feel, want, think, desire about her. The memory was of me being officious and scared and trying to be the responsible one, hoping against hope she knew how I love her desperately. As I sat in front of the tube, in the setting that was a lot of Sunday afternoons for us, I was overwhelmed by the lonliness closing in like a suffocating cloud -- and she was not here in person. Only when I started talking to her (I had no idea whether I said anything out loud) did I start to find some easing of the pain.
The amazing thing was how powerfully and rapidly this pain hit. The only good thing was I have learned how to go with the flow, and realize relief from the pain more rapidly. I guess that is progress. I still don't have to like it.
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