I may have told you this already, but there are a number of songs I associate with you. Don Henley's All She Wants to Do is Dance sits at the top of the list. I love that song because of you.
Every time I hear Adam Ant I think of you as well, two song in particular remind me of you for reasons I cannot now remember, they are: Goody Two Shoes and Strip, but I don't think you can ascribe any obvious reasons based upon those titles. I just remember being with you while those songs were playing... and I guess I did think of you as a bit of a goody two shoes, though in an endearing way.
Now this last song I remember because I was with you, in your home, both of us on a small couch. Rick Springfield's Living in Oz LP was on your record player. It's The Human Touch that sticks in my head every time I think of you. One line in particular...
You know I've got my walls
But Sally calls them prison cells.
And that's so me... or has been... I've been tearing down walls lately, and I'm getting pretty good at it. I reckon Sally would say, "it's about time!"
And yes, it's about time.
Not a one of these walls have come down because of any specific thing you have said or done, or any specific memory I have of you, but that's not to say you weren't important to me. It was the whole of you, the entire picture of you. You are who you are; a memory of sweetness and light, and that's enough for any man when the light of the world appears to have dimmed. But these walls are coming down because of decisions I've made since I turned 50 last August.
I wonder if we ever really understand the impressions we leave on others without knowing. This song I downloaded, Nice Girls, by Eye to Eye, carries with it some bad memories. I was a lonely young man, infatuated, and the object of my affection knew full well my heart. She went to the party with me, but ended up with someone else, and because of the hurt I did something very foolish... to myself. But that was twenty-seven years ago. How long do I have to carry that bag, or brick that wall? For as long as I am willing to do the work. And, as I've said, in the last few months I've spent some quality time with myself and my purpose and more time with my Lord than I have been wont. We're still not on close speaking terms, but... I'm learning to open up, and I'm discovering who I am and what it is I'm supposed to do.
Used to be I didn't want a nice girl. Now I find its all I want in a friend, and finding it difficult to see her anywhere. But I'm not worried about her anymore; where she is or when I might meet her. She's there and that's all I need to know.
But you, Mary Angel, have been a constant in my life, like no one else I've ever known-- you have been my north star. That's the impression you've left me with, though you probably never guessed the impact you left on my life, but I'm pleased by it. You and a short list of others have kept me from ruin, and I owe you all a debt of gratitude I can never repay.
So, the tone may sound sad, but that's just who I am- it's hard to escape Melancholy once it's had it's way with you one too many times. And this letter has been difficult to follow-- I've rambled a bit --but I've found more hope in recent months and years (in spite of my midlife crisis) than I ever thought to, or had any reason to expect but for the love I had for you and those others who kept me on the right path.
I don't think of you as often as I used to. But I can't see myself ever forgetting you. So it's in that spirit, a genuine spirit of Godly love, that I wish you and your family all of God's rich blessings this Christmas season.
Thank you for being my friend... for a lot longer than you expected.
With love,
E
