A week ago, I was feeling great. It was Saturday and I had the day off. The sun was shining. I had eaten a great breakfast earlier, cleaned up my apartment and did some laundry, and then gone on a 6-mile training run. I was a bit tired and hungry, but satisfied and even happy. As I got ready to shower and change into street clothes, I started iTunes playing. I went into the kitchen to get some water, and when I walked back into the living room, this song began playing.
And I was overwhelmed with a feeling of loss and sadness.
I had every reason to feel happy, though perhaps my defenses were down because I’d exhausted myself. So why did I start crying, sobbing, in that repressed choking way men cry?
I had to lean against the wall while the feeling moved through me. I stumbled into the bathroom, started the hot water, undressed and stepped into the tub, unable to see straight through my teary eyes.
It’s been eight months since my last breakup. I haven’t dated since then; I’ve gone to meet one woman I’d spoken to online last year, but that’s it. I’ve spent time with friends and even family and I’ve tended to my internal state and tried to get back in shape with limited success. But the image that came to mind when I heard the words “You will look for me and I’ll be gone and I’ll be gone” wasn’t even of her. It was simply me, standing in an empty, sun-filled room while the front door closed. I couldn’t even see who was leaving, though she could have been any woman I’ve dated or had a crush on. Every one, and none of them. Someone I have not yet met, perhaps.
Because they always leave, don’t they? Finite universe, finite spans of time and finite expanses of space. For every event, there’s a beginning, a middle… and an end.
I got past it, enjoyed my Saturday afternoon, spent Easter watching TV and eating Easter dinner with my sister and father and family, trudged through the work week with a few evenings with friends.
A week later, this morning, another spring Saturday, I woke up with this song in my head.
A bright and happy tune with surreal and poetic words of encouragement. I welcomed the feeling of the chorus bouncing around my head. I got out of bed and went into the living room, threw back the curtains to let in the morning light. I walked over to my computer and found I did not have a copy of this song. I searched online and purchased it and when it had finished downloading, I set it to play.
And as my living room filled with Mr. Gabriel’s voice and music, I felt again that sense of loss and sadness. Again, I cried.
It’s an unwelcome guest in my brain. I want it gone.
