Music filled the space. Music a part of everything we did together. Talking, walking, singing, doing laundry. If there was movement? Music was a large part of everything we did together. Wasn’t odd now music played on the iPod set up to play through the speakers. On our bench, in the garden, it was a beautiful spot. Your spot, our spot. People would walk by and smile seeing us together. We had been together for such a long time, never one without the other and the two of us never without music.
To look at you hurt a bit now. How you looked didn’t do you justice. Not to your feet, your figure, your face. Oh, we both knew this was an attempt to capture the way you are and missed. Not by a lot. Only by a little. To be honest, darling? I let the feeling go. The reason being? I loved you. I love you. Here we are, together. Like we are supposed to be.
Things were peaceful. Money not a problem never was a problem. We needed little and our retirement savings were fine. So, the day to day taken care of. Not having you to discuss the music with, the songs, the arrangements, this the hard thing to deal with every day.
Oh, I tried, I tried every single day to have the conversations. Looking at you, listening to you say your favorite things. Working the words, the terms into conversation, so we had a back and forth. For a while I made it work. I did. Not long enough.
Here I am today, with the music, the soaring sounds of mountain tops, the deep sounds of a trench in the ocean. Birds taking flight. A flute playing in a meadow. A strong piano at a truck stop. All the songs, all the music. Music so part of our lives.
Your face flashing on the screen inserted into your tombstone. The music, the background of your life on endless repeat. Me laying next to you now. The pills made everything seem quiet in my head. Sleepy. My hand reached out and turned the music louder on the monitor.
“Yes Sharon, I do love this song, we love this song. Sure, let’s hear it again…”