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Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Reflections

It was a different kind of Fourth of July for me this year. For the last 4 years, my 4th of July plans involved planning a week-long trip to Columbia to celebrate Rachel’s birthday. Her birthday’s on the 8th, and with the three day holiday weekend, it was always convenient to come down that weekend. It was a little different this year since I’m now here on a permanent basis.

I’ve come to love fireworks. There’s just something about leaning your head back and watching the brilliant bursts of color against the night sky. I could watch them for hours. And then I look at the faces of some of the people I love most in the world, with the colors of the fireworks reflecting in their eyes, and I feel like everything is almost perfect.

Until I think of the one person who I miss more than anything. Last year when we watched the fireworks, I sat there with tears rolling down my face, and the song “somewhere out there” playing through my head. (The song is from an American Tale, the movie where the little mouse is separated from his family, and he and his sister are hundreds of miles apart, yet staring up at the sky and singing this song. Total heart-breaker) This year… same thing happened. I’m not sure what it is. I don’t have any strong memories of watching fireworks with her. I associate the 4th of July with Lauren, not Emily, just because it’s become a tradition that we spend it together. I’m not even sure if Emily even liked fireworks to be perfectly honest. But something about staring up into the vastness of the sky makes me wonder if somehow, she’s looking down at the same sky I am. If she sees the same brilliant colors bursting in the sky, or if she can see the reflection of them in the tears running down my face, and if she knows just how desperately I miss her.

Which I know is highly unlikely. Yet somehow, staring up at the sky and even thinking of the possibility, in all of it's improbability, is a comfort enough.

Somewhere Out There
written by James Horner, Barry Mann, Cynthia Weil

Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight

Somewhere out there someone's saying a prayer
That we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there

And even though I know how very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky

Somewhere out there if love can see us through
Then we'll be together somewhere out there
Out where dreams come true

3 comments:

Brennan Blog said...

One of my favorite songs.....
Thanks for commenting on my blog....I never know if anyone is reading it or not!

Anonymous said...

Just happened upon your blog - you linked to my Mom's (merry me) blog recently. My husband died 6 years ago yesterday (3/7/05). I remember loving that American Tale song back in the day because we lived far apart for a time and would look at the moon from wherever we were and it made us feel closer. Grief is a strange and wild ride, Melissa. Thanks for sharing your journey. ~wendy

Merry ME said...

Hey Melissa,
I'm hopping around the blogosphere when I should be putting on my Sunday go to meeting clothes. I saw the anonymous comment on your sidebar and was surprised to see my name. I don't know that Wendy would agree with me and I doubt she has a secret formula for getting over grief, but she's come a long way. Maybe it helps on hard days to know that you CAN miss the one you love and still make a new life.

At the end of my grief workshop I got a brand new visual that really helps me. I picture my mom and dad in the "communion of saints" looking down on me. I know communion of saints sounds pretty churchy and I suppose for me it is. The thing is, it's not just MY mom and dad. Zubin, and Melissa and my grandparents, and everyone who's ever crossed to the other side is there. One gigantic fan club watching and loving us from "somewhere out there."

Bless you, my friend. As the 4th of July rolls around this year how about lighting a candle for Melissa then enjoy the fireworks for yourself.

That said from a girl who is scared of going to church on Father's Day because she knows she's going to come unglued.