I haven’t really been able to explain my experience–to myself or anyone else, although I have tried. I wrote a book about dealing with my wife’s death and my first bumbling experiences with late-life dating. I read it a few times and put it away.
One month ago, my dog died. He was a beautiful dog. He was our dog. I wrote a song about him and put together slides linked to the song. I haven’t really been able to get the song just right, but I can’t work with it anymore. Not now. Here’s a link to the song/slide show: I Know It Isn’t Easy (It might take some time to download)
I have listened to that production many times. Every time I cry. But there’s something cathartic here–It’s kind of like I need an object out there to just “be” out there, in some way allowing me to move outside of myself into the song and pictures of the dog I loved so much.
Some of my friends have responded to this production of abject pathos. I think by putting some of my emotional pain “out there” others can link their pains to mine. In an odd way, sine waves harmonize.
Living isn’t always easy. It has been easy for most of my life, but I have lately experienced two very serious bumps in my road. I feel silly saying this, knowing what others have to endure. But somehow when we hit the bumps, the bumps become our world.
Writing has always been my way of coping. And so has singing. I will willingly listen to anyone who can connect the two. I think it’s important to get the “in here” “out there” and have it play back again. I would like to know why.