Last night our daughter gave us a wicked, albeit early, 25th wedding anniversary gift: two premium seats to an upcoming production of The Phantom of The Opera (insert booming musical score here) in Toronto.
Yes, next year marks a quarter of a century of wedded
battles bliss for my lovely bride and I, and I can honestly say that I’ve never loved her more. And how great is my kid? Her funds are limited and she spent $200 a ticket on her parents so they could relive a pivotal moment from their honeymoon and watch a woman become fascinated with a scarred man who wears a mask and reminds her of her father.
It’s true. Look it up on the interweb.
Work has been as wacky and as hectic as ever; every single construction project that started over two years ago is still going-anything-but-strong and guests are embracing their inner-wackadoodle in larger numbers. I’d weep for humanity but it’s all too fascinating to complain too much about.
There have been plenty of online bargains on comic book trades and graphic novels lately: I’ve been scoring Marvel books and a few Batman adventures. So I’m a happy nerd.
All in all, I have a pretty damn good life compared to billions of lost souls and Trump supporters.
So why am I so damn sad?
I walk to work shrouded in the darkness that grips Niagara like an icy sheet and I listen a collection of songs on my electronic device… And every one of those tunes reminds me of Rockin’ Ronnie in some way. It’s been two years and my life has been anything but static but while there are (finally) more good days than bad, the pain still rises like bile in my soul and I can’t seem to purge myself of it completely. I know there was nothing more my family (both immediate and at work) could have done to help Ronnie find his way back into the light but logic and emotion collide quite often in my brain.
And logic rarely wins.
There are moments during which I’m sad in a way I’ve never known before. There are moments during which I don’t know who I am or what I really want out of my life. But those moments fade relatively quickly, especially when I speak of them. Online, I mean.
So here’s where I am: I’m still wrestling with guilt and loss but I’m honored to be a husband, dad, bellman and a generally offbeat but fascinating human being. This human condition is a tough thing to understand but it’s certainly worth exploring.
See you in the lobby, kids…