For Thor - 63 - You, Your Dad, ZBB and me

Your dad and I went away this past weekend, to celebrate our anniversary. We needed the time together, just the two of us. Just like I did so I could be joyfully present for Xanny's birthday; I cleared room in my heart for this experience. I rooted myself in the moment and went to Norfolk determined to be light hearted, easy going and loving on our trip. The conversation rolled smoothly. We didn't talk about anything heavy or intense, both of us understanding that a respite from the intensity of our lives since you died is what we needed. The past nine months have taken a heavy toll on us. We are different people than we were, the forces of death molding us into new versions of ourselves. The world looks different.

Several months ago, Nana and I were hanging out at her house. I was in a particularly heart-sore state. We turned on some music to ease the moment; my go-to favorite, The Zac Brown Band. The songs played, and I sang and cried along with the lyrics that express my heart and soothe my soul all at the same time. Then there are the songs that were your favorites; the ones you've sung for years. To this day when I hear "Chicken Fried" or "Toes," I hear you playing guitar and singing along. I see you in my mind's eye on the couch in your pj's picking out the notes and tapping your toes. I think of you and your Pap driving around in PA listening to ZBB and laughing it up. My heart breaks for your dad who loved playing guitar with you, these songs among the favorites in your duo repertoire. But it is "Bittersweet", and "Remedy" brings me to a special place inside; that place where the brokenness and sorrow meet Grace and Hope. Nana insisted that I must see ZBB live - to be there in concert and feel the music in my bones. She gave me cash to buy tickets for my birthday. So, I did.

Last summer I was excited about the new ZBB album, and I enthusiastically encouraged you to learn some of the new stuff to play for me; "Homegrown" being at the top of that request list. You said you would get to it, but that your favorite song was "Sweet Annie." You were already learning to play that one, for Starr. Well, a mama knows when she has to take a spot in line behind the woman in her son's life. So I would wait. It wasn't too many days later that you and dad began picking out the first few notes, strumming and singing along to Homegrown. My heart smiled. Heck, my whole body smiled, all the way down to my liver.

So, last Sunday night, the day after our anniversary, Dad and I went to the Zac Brown Band concert in Virginia Beach. I felt so many emotions all at once that I couldn't contain them all. Daddy took exquisite care of me, even though I know it must have been hard on him, too. I told him that when the tears came (it was inevitable) that it's not because I'm sad. It's just the wholehearted expression of all the feelings; Love, Joy, Sorrow, Remorse, Longing, Remembrance. I gripped his hand tightly and rolled with the ride. I kept thinking how much freaking fun you would have at this show. And I know you were there, but, well you know. It's different and pales in comparison having you there in spirit and not in the form I've loved all these years.

The concert set list changes from show to show. I didn't know what we would hear, but I knew it would be good. It is ZBB, after all! There were some cool, surprising cover songs, like Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" and The Who's "Baba O'Riley" and Mellencamp's "Jack & Diane". But it was the classic ZBB songs that took me away."Tomorrow Never Comes" felt like an anthem which rocked me hard and had me out of my seat. 

And then they played it. When the first notes of "Sweet Annie" pulsed through the air I knew you were right there. I sang my heart out through the tears streaming down my face. Then something funny and kinda wonderful happened. Right in the middle of that song our next-seat neighbors passed me a bottle of Fireball. Dad had told this sweet young couple why I was crying. She handed me the bottle with tears in here eyes and said, "He's here." I had to laugh. I could hear you plain as day saying, "Mama, this is all for YOU. Have fun! Dance! Sing! And for God's sake, woman, do a shot!" So, I did.

The show was excellent, but I felt blown-out and tired afterward. So many emotions exploded inside me all at once that I couldn't tell what I felt. Dad and I made our way back to the hotel bleary-eyed and ready to get some food and sleep. I couldn't process the experience, yet. We were still in anniversary trip mode. I stayed steady (a sign that I'm getting a bit stronger), and we shared a lovely day meandering home on Monday.

Monday night everything came crashing down. The grinding truth of your death with your birthday looming large overwhelmed me with sorrow once more. We are on the doorstep of this milestone.  The biggest one to me. Your birthday without you here. I cried all night on Monday and woke to puffy eyes and a tear-stained face on Tuesday only to have to buck up and head to Richmond for a meeting. I managed to keep it together, somewhat, on the trip into town but the ride home was not so great. The utterly devastating agony of your death hits me sometimes and it is ruthless. I had to stop several times along the road to breathe and blow my nose. I even stopped in to see a friend at her office in search of some advice; she's walked this horrible road and would understand. She was not available at the time, but getting out of the car and talking to other people gave me enough of a break to make it safely home.

One moment I am up where the air is clear. Where I can feel connected to the rightness of this life and all its expression. And the next I am plunged into a dark and swirling sea of grief.  That's the way it is. 

It's the eve of your birthday and I find it hard to breathe today, Bubby.

I love you,

Mom