Back in February, Bonnie transitioned out of this life. With the crush of events that has overtaken all of us in the month and a half (and counting), this seems like ages ago now. But I still miss her every day.
I don’l know what happens to us when we pass. That’s a subject that’s way beyond the scope of this blog. And it’s a very controversial subject. As my parents used to say to me, never discuss politics or religion.
Suffice to say that I still feel Bonnie’s presence in my life. Whether that’s memory or fantasy or reality, I”ll leave it to each of you to decide or choose.
All I have is my experiential reality and that what it’s telling me. I still feel her.
I’ve been listening to a lot of music while on self-imposted house arrest here in Mexico (isolation orders have not been issued here; only requests or strong suggestions).
Each time I do I am flooded with memories of all the shows and concerts Bonnie and I took in together over the last ten years.
Yes, we met a little more than ten years ago now.
A happy accident of online dating. I can’t dredge up what site it was where we connected but that’s how we met.
Bonnie winked at me or something like that. I responded and the rest, as they say, is history.
We were both veterans of marriage and while neither of us really had any desire to enter into a contract with the state by getting married, we both wanted the joy and comfort of companionship and love with someone our own age. (We were literally a month and a week apart in age–1953 was a very good year.)
We loved being together. And a lot of that togetherness was at concerts and shows. Goodness I’d have a hard time remembering them all and yet now as I set listening to my playlists on Spotify, up come songs from bands or acts we enjoyed and many that we saw.
Maybe you remember the ice bucket challenge? I was all that excited by the challenge, but the theme song blew me away the first time I heard it: Come With Me Now by Kongos. Well, they played in Madison (WI) that Fall and off we went to see them. It was a relatively small show, in a theatre holding maybe 500 and not even full. Yet Kongos played their hearts out. We loved it; the crowd loved it. To boot, we were the oldest people there by probably 30 years, LOL!
Indeed that happened to us frequently and nobody cared, let alone us.
Bonnie and I traveled and we worked and played and lived. And, in the end, for both of us (and we discussed this) that’s what it’s all about. To enjoy life, to be of service to our fellow human beings, and to be as much Love as we could muster.
To the end, Bonnie was steadfast. Often I’d know she was in pain of which she rarely or even complained. She just wanted to soak in every minute of life. With me, with her family, with her friends.
And she did.
Now here in my favorite picture of Bonnie. I’ve posted it before. It’s full of the joy and Love and hope that Bonnie embodied.
I miss you; I love you; I expect to join you sooner than later.
Happy travels, Bob