I went to see my favorite band this weekend. Three days at the gorge and I was excited to see some old friends from years past where we congregate once a year to catch up with each other, share some food and drinks and have a great time. But this year was different for me. The sax player for the band died the week before and the band was playing for the first time since his funeral. The Friday night show was an open tribute to their friend who they lost suddenly due to medical complications from an accident he suffered much earlier in the year. The band was in tears at numerous point in the show, the sheer intensity of the moment had me weeping as well. I think I had been waiting for the right moment to have a good cry and this was it. I cried for the death of a musician I admired and have appreciated for many years. I cried for the pain that is a part of my life with the kids being gone. Music can be a healing force as it was for me this weekend. My only regret was I had planned to go with K and for many reasons that did not happen. I had looked forward to going with her all summer, since March when I bought the tickets. It would have been nice to have her meet some of my friends and share my enjoyment of the weekend with her. Never the less it wasn’t meant to be. It is relatively late and it was very cold Saturday and Sunday evenings. It rained and hailed Sunday night and I have managed to catch a rapidly worsening cold. Off to bed to catch up on sleep in my own bed and fight this dreaded cold.
It still hurts. My neighbors daughter was in my backyard this evening playing on the swingset and jumping on the trampoline. It made me cry again. Sad is how I feel when I see her out there and my kids are a continent away.
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