More Songs
No sleeping child in the front room, no sleeping child in the guest room. It’s just me so I slept in. I was going to say my words would now be bathed by the morning light, but it’s winter and the best I can offer is moonlight and even that is sort of low on the horizon and mostly hidden by the neighbor’s big oaks just over the fence of the back lots.
Anyway, the house is mostly empty; my youngest son and middle child lives with me in guest rooms separated from my quarters. Still, when two out of three take their departure things seem empty relatively speaking, sort of like someone has pulled a vacuum on the house. Some things actually went with them. My daughter hauled off her brother’s big bass amp, a cartop carrier I no longer had a use for, and her late mother’s jewelry. The latter was a big emotional step for her. Next up will be the costume jewelry.
It’s easy when you lose a spouse to forget the kids have a lot to deal with, too. I’ve tried to keep the dad hat on as much as I can to help out, but they’re all grown so it’s probably a bit easier than it would be if they were little like my brothers were when our mother passed away back in ‘68. They were all still in school. That seems like eons ago. My kids’ hurt is a lot fresher. For all of us, I think, playing music together really helps and yesterday we ended rolling through about a twenty-minute jam playing T for Texas and singing at the top of our lungs. Talk about cathartic. We have another round scheduled in late February. Group therapy.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale