SUNDAY, JULY 3, 2011
The sting stops.
But the pain is always there, although that too does quiet over time.
This date, for the past 33 years has always sucked and always will.
What’s always baffled me is how a simple number on a calendar can immediately toss one into a state of reflection when you’d think it more logical to try and forget those events that remind you of pain.
Perhaps it’s a way of reminding ourselves of those times in life when you knew that whatever was happening was going to shape your future, and the person you were going to become. Always something you didn’t realize at the time, but upon reflection, you see it.
We all know the moments that changed the course of our lives. Some of them are good moments. Some of them are not.
Had opportunity to share one in a story Saturday evening, interestingly enough with friends who all experienced very similar experiences.
Thirty three years ago it was raining slightly, it was just past dusk but not quite night. The next day being July 4th some neighbors couldn’t wait to take a shot at trying to blow their fingers off, so there were some amateur fireworks going on out in front of the house. I split my time that evening between looking out at the cheap show with the drizzle fizzling out some of the fuses, and watching the Yankees game on in the den.
Standing at the door I could pretty much do both. Watch my neighbors ill fated attempts at holiday entertainment and listen to the game blaring from the TV. But then, everything in the house went dark and quiet. Blackout.
Well, not quite. It was us. Looking out at the houses across the street and right next to us – their lights were on. Probably blew a fuse, although looking back now that was much less likely, my father didn’t believe in springing for the extra bucks it would cost to have an air conditioner cooling down the stifling house in the summer.
Actually wasn’t the fuse though. After about two minutes, the power went back on as mysteriously as it had gone out. That was weird, but everyone in the house resumed what we were all doing. And everyone was there to do so, except for my mother. She was still in the hospital battling cancer.
Not more than ten minutes after the lights returned, the call came in from the hospital that her war had ended.
I always think of the power going out as her saying good night. All of us after all are simply embodied energy. Wherever we are, that energy is always active and the energy from our surrounding environment interacts with us. Our DNA is a part of that energy and invariably, those combinations wind up a part of the places we spend our time.
So when a persons energy leaves their body – it sends a virtual shock wave through everything it’s encountered over time. The greater the interaction, the bigger the jolt. So if you’ve ever known anyone to tell you about how the lights flickered or went out just before they were informed of the loss of a loved one, realize the connection that is formed between a person and their home. All that energy flying around…when a connection is broken – that’s why the lights flicker or go out. An overload of juice straining at the energy in the room.
In “Field of Dreams” James Earl Jones said so eloquently how baseball has marked the time. You can look back and recall where a point in your life was based on what was happening with your favorite team. In 1978 the Yankees staged one of the greatest comebacks in baseball history. After being virtually out of the race in July they came back to win the World Series. It provided a nice distraction then at best.
Music too can mark the time.
Please forgive the self-indulgence. While the three below mean nothing to you, to me they specifically point to that damp dreary day. That I actually like all of them used to confuse me. Then I realized that it’s not the specifics of that day that I have learned to recall when I hear them, but it points me back to the stage in life where I had yet to be stung.
Grooveline click here
Baker Street click here
Driver’s Seat click here