The Hole in the Middle of Me That Every Happy Thing Falls Into

I went to the Mariners' opening game yesterday. It was another first without Wendy. We've been invited each of the last few years by Maki and Rich, and this time I brought Hendrik with me.

During the 8th inning, though, they played Diana Ross' "I'm Coming Out" over the loudspeakers, and it opened up a trap door of grief for me. You see, that was Wendy's theme song. It was something that I could play when she was feeling really down about herself to boost her back up again. It's the lyrics, the exuberance of the tune that would reconnect her to her own internal confidence.

In my psychologically compromised state, I'm inclined to believe that she's taken over the P.A. controls to play that song to let me know she was there. This feeling was compounded by the very next song, "Mambo No. 5." We went on a roadtrip for our honeymoon, and when we weren't listening to the Rushmore soundtrack, "Mambo No. 5" would invariably come on the radio. I'm always going to remember when that song was charting: Fall of 1999.

So, I say it opened a trap door of grief for me, because that's what it's become: A portal I can often choose to not go through. Grieving under those circumstances are horrible. My friends will want to comfort me, which is an impossible feat. I was able to put the brakes on it, wipe away the few tears that seeped out from my clenched eyes, and carry on. Later, when I was safely home, that black river came up behind me. I was half waiting for it.

I'm tired of grieving. I am tired of giving into it each time it comes. I am tired of contemplating my own mortality and the world's doom. I'm trying to move towards positive thinking. I'm listening to less news and more music. I'm trying not to think of either of my two futures--the planned future that violently disassembled in November and the ambiguous future that has taken its place. Both make me nauseous...sewer pipe nauseous.

One more thing: I just started reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which has sucked me in faster than any novel in a long time. It's mostly about a young, precocious boy coming to grips with his father's death on September 11. Regarding his father's final answering machine message, which he has kept secret from his mother and grandmother, he says, "That secret is the hole in the middle of me that every happy thing falls into."

For me, that hole is the look in Wendy's eyes the last time I saw her alive.