Strange Happenings

Thanksgiving Day, my wife and I were preparing the feast for ourselves, our daughter, my mother in-law and several of our daughter’s roommates.

My wife had the radio playing…a real FM broadcast radio…so I know it wasn’t a case of an “internet dossier” being used to target content to me.

The radio station played, in order, Bette Midler’s “The Rose”,  Bread’s “Everything I Own” and  Garth Brooks’  “The Dance”.

 

When my fiancee was in hospice, she wanted to plan her funeral while her mind was still clear–not the usual thing for 21 and 22 year old”kids” to do.  For the music, she wanted each of us to pick a song.  She picked “The Rose”.  I picked “Everything I Own”.    Since it was her funeral, she decided her song should go first.

 

I can’t imagine a radio station playing those songs together and in that order, especially on Thanksgiving Day.  And I know my wife wouldn’t “do” that to me by calling in a request, so I don’t have an explanation.  Maybe there are ghosts.  If so, my fiancee sure did add a fitting third song.

By the way, she died November 24, 1983.  If you look that up on a calendar, it’s Thanksgiving Day.

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Book One — The Ending

I’ve said before that my life is like two different  books.  One is finished while the other is still being written.

Normally the first book “sits on the shelf” because I don’t want to dwell on it too much, or make my wife compete with a ghost.

Two days a year, I metaphorically pull book 1 off of the shelf and remember.  The two days I chose seem weird, but they are the ones I chose.

I could have chosen many days; the day we met, any of a huge number of things we did together, meeting her parents, meeting my parents, me asking THE question, her saying YES, our drive across country to meet our extended families, the day of the phone call that brought me the news that cancer was attacking her, the day she died.

But I chose two other days.   October 31 and May 26.

October 31, 1983 was the day her doctor recommended a “new” program called hospice.  My mom was a nurse practitioner and I knew about hospice already.  I just sat there, frozen and barely breathing, knowing that our dreams would never be.

May 26, 1984, was the day we planned for our wedding.  Our wedding was going to be on the beach at sunset and attended by a dozen or so friends and family.  That time and place was chosen because she loved the beach and loved watching the sparkles from the setting sun “dance on the water”.  The day was chosen because it was a holiday weekend.

May 26, 1984, when the sparkles from the setting sun were dancing on the water, I scattered her ashes in the surf.