Catch the Wind
Jim and I never had an "our song." We were around 50 when we got married, so it would have seemed a little silly...not that we ever had a real objection to being silly, but there are limits...
I've been sitting here this morning, stuck in YouTube, listening to version after version of this song, which I adopted shortly after he died, because it says how I feel. That's the thing with music, isn't it?
Donovan confines the grief to "the chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty." That way, it's not so overwhelming, and I can deal with it. "When sundown pales the sky" is another time I can deal. Jim and I watched a lot of sunsets. "When rain has hung the leaves with tears" is absolutely the perfect time to think about Jim, who liked to stand out in the rain.
It seems odd, really, that I can listen to this song, and cry, and move on.
James Taylor's "Fire and Rain" is about a friend who died by her own hand, or so I've been told. I can't listen to it at all, and, by extension, I can't listen to any James Taylor, and he used to be a favourite. But the grief in the song is so all-encompassing, and there's too much Jesus for me, I guess. Every time I hear it, I have to leave. Or sit down and ugly cry. Those are the two things. There is no third choice. I don't go there.
So today I'm sad. Tomorrow I'll be OK. Maybe next year I'll be better. I have an idea that the year I can sit down and listen to "Fire and Rain" will be a milestone of healing.