The Melancholy of Music

Music is a trigger of grief for me. I can't listen to the radio. I have to drive in silence or succumb to crying. CDs are out. Every song seems to remind me of Rick, love, memories, or some emotion I used to feel. 

Rick and I had a lot of special songs. We had a lot of mix CDs and we played them for each other all the time. Some people have one or two or three "our songs." Rick and I had more than 70. 

So music is hard. 

Even background music in a store hurts me when I hear it. I want to run. I want to turn it off. 

I drove to Connecticut early this morning to go wedding dress shopping with my best friend Sarah who is newly engaged. I was looking forward to being with her again, but dreading the drive alone. I knew I couldn't listen to music for over 3 hours without bawling. I also knew I couldn't drive in silence for that long with only my sad thoughts to accompany me. 

I wasn't sure how to deal with the drive. I considered blasting urban rap which wouldn't trigger any memories or sadness. I thought about a book on tape... But that didn't feel right either since I was too tired and I worried it might put me to sleep. 

My dilemma was solved by my good friend Jennifer. She brought me a comedy CD by Ellen.

It worked like a charm. I did not cry on my drive to Connecticut. I touched my new pendant every time my heart hurt.

Being away from home for the weekend is hard, because it feels like it always felt - like Rick is just at home waiting for me. It's an unsettling kind of feeling. My chest is tight; my mind is confused. I'm afraid to drive home to an empty house. 

It's easier to pretend he's there with the cats, planning our week and missing me. 

I wish it was true.

I wish the old reality was real. 

It's easier to miss a husband I think I'm going to see again than one I'm not.