Maggie’s Angel Day looms near. Last year on this date, time was just about standing still. This year the beat of the ticking clock is not so insistent. Less screaming. Less gnashing of teeth. Less sandpaper grit against my heart. Less Maggie.
I don’t have any particular plans for her Angel Day. I’m at a loss, really, as to what would be appropriate. I say “appropriate” but what I really mean is “feels right.” Ever try on a new type of shoe?* You get them on your feet and they just feel funny, not hurting, really. Just funny. But since they are new to you, you really don’t know how they are supposed to feel. And your shopping buddy always asks “So, how do they feel?” Well, not like my old, comfy pair of shoes I just took off to try these on. That’s how they feel.
I liked my old, comfy pair of shoes.
* Maggie used to insist that every few years or so I get a new pair of shoes even when I had a perfectly good pair I wore every day. I dreaded the shoe-shopping trips while I’m pretty sure she loved them.
What’s conspicuously absent now is the pain, at least like it was. Please don’t misunderstand here. Oh, I still hurt. And I still cry, frequently as of recent, but now I can smile, too. I can even play songs that were deep and meaningful and ours and smile.
Funny story from just last night. I was driving home from a social engagement and was listening to I Miss You by Blink 182. It’s a pretty darn sad song as you might infer from the title and, surprise, surprise, I was thinking of what’s-her-name, that girl I was married to as the song drilled the “I miss you” theme. Right in the middle of the song, my iPod skipped** to a new song, Calling You by Blue October. Way back, this was the song I’d belt out loudly while beaming, love overflowing from my heart because it was written just for Maggie and me. It is a happy, happy song but barely a few months ago it was tough to listen to because all the tears just got in the way of the melody. Last night, driving down Mopac, weather perfect, top down on Maggie’s cool car, when that iPod skipped, I smiled, turned the volume up to 11 and sang my heart out, straight to my baby. I know she heard me. Hell, everyone who lives between 35th and the 2222 exit did. It was just all smiles along with a warm, cozy feeling of “we were good, she and me, and that’ll always be with us.” (And I cry as I type….)
** Lots of unexplained iPod skipping lately. Maybe I should get that bugger replaced. It’s like it’s possessed or something.
But I still really, really, REALLY miss my old, comfy pair of shoes.