Just the Guy

I knew it was coming tonight. I knew it. I drove a friend to the open mike and about half way through the night, I felt a surge of grief coming on. Sometimes it can be difficult to listen to songs all night, with lyrics that can be percieved in any number of ways Sometimes those lyrics can get into my soul like the cancer that got into Chris’ body.

“I Won’t Send Roses” is a song from the musical, “Mack and Mabel”. The song is the one I was going to use in my cabaret show to illustrate how I felt about Chris. He was going to be alive when I sang it, alive and smiling from the audience, knowing it was for him.

The lyrics are:

So who needs roses or stuff like that?
So who needs chocolates? They’d make me fat.
And I can get along just fine without a gushing valentine.
And I’ll get by with just the guy.
And if he calls me and it's collect,
Sir Walter Raleigh I don't expect.
And though I know I may be left out on a limb,
So who needs roses that didn't come from him?

I never needed anything from Creej except his smile, his love, a couple of hugs daily...oh...and his cooking. During his illness, I kept thinking, “If he only lives, I’ll never want anything foolish from him, again.” This promise was conditional, directed toward God and designed as a bargaining chip to make God make Chris healthy again. I wish he had lived. I wish he was still my husband. I wish he was still my best friend.

So I haven’t been able to sing “I Won’t Send Roses” since Chris died and I wouldn’t have sung it tonight, either, if John hadn’t brought up that it would be a good duet for us, since I have been wanting to sing a duet with him. I made a snap decision not to “grief out” over it. Afterall, it’s a beautiful song that I can sing completely from the deepest, most loving place in my heart. It was for my Creej.

So we sung it, and it was beautiful and I was able to put all of that love into it and project it toward John, who seemed to really enjoy the genuine place it was coming from. I loved doing it.

I had forgotten how feeling all of that love had felt. A part of me awakened tonight and it felt so good to feel in love again.

But the surge got stronger and I felt like running out of the restaurant and going home. I drove, Lori, though and she was chit-chatting with a friend so I held my composure until she was ready to leave. I saw no real reason to run at that precise moment. My grief was coming tonight, whether I rushed out or casually strolled.

I dropped her off at home and from the moment the car door closed until now, I have been enduring a screaming crying fit, though writing this has calmed me some.

Lately, whenever I sing, people approach me and tell me how much I moved them, how wonderful I am, what a beautiful voice I have, and so forth. It’s really nice to hear those accolades from complete strangers. Something has defintely changed in my performance these past nine months. I’m singing from a much deeper, more genuine place and people are beginning to notice.

I wanted to come home and tell Chris. I wanted him to hug me. I wanted to hug him. He's not here, though. Tonight, only the rain is here and I’m cold and distraught. It’s very difficult to drive home in the rain in 3D. That’s how my tears made the rain look. There was rain outside, on my windshield and pouring out of my eyes. It is so damn hard to drive that way.

I’m home now sitting on the couch with my comforter wrapped around me, a hug of sorts, I guess. I’m getting warm, anyway.

I have stopped crying, finally. I’m tired and hungry. I need some peanut butter and then I need to sleep.

Exhausted, dehydrated, on the other side of this one,

Shneed