Crying in Time

This afternoon I put on a CD as I begin to do more decluttering, organizing, moving Romeo's things into storage. The music is Afro Celt Sound System, Volume 1, Sound Magic, a sometimes sad, sometimes energetic cacophony of pipes, drones, flutes, drums, guitars, whistles, and countless other instruments that somehow all come together in an organic symphony of strong African and Celtic influences.

How difficult it is today to sort through Romeo's things! I cry, and I cry a lot. My crying mimics the voices of the instruments on the CD as we sound off together, in perfect unison, sometimes in harmony.

I come across greeting cards that I had given to Romeo for birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's Day. I dig out the cards I had received from him throughout the years. I find trinkets from him. Little things he had made when he attended adult daycare, not so long ago. In particular, there is a cardboard heart-shaped box that he painted yellow. Inside is a slip of paper. It says:

To the world you are one person, but to one person you are the world. (Anonymous)

And I know that even though he did not write the sentiment, it comes from his heart.

I cry on and off for hours, salty tears running down my face, onto my sweater, onto the floor in the bedroom, the hallway, the living room, kitchen, bathroom, even the garage. The crying happens in starts and stops, in jags and jigs. I find a trinket, a piece of Romeo that holds special meaning, and I cry. I cry it out, cry out the emotion, the sadness, the confusion, the anger. I cry out the happiness, the joy, the honor of having been with Romeo.

Then I stop until I find another trinket or card, another remembrance of life with Romeo, and the crying starts again as the music holds the perfect background for my wails and tears. Without trying, unintentionally, my cries match that of the long cries of the pipes. My voice matches that of a long, sad drone. My heartbeat entrains to the rhythm of the drums. This rhythm of sadness and happiness, anger and joy -- this rhythm of emotion plays me and coaxes me to continue expressing it. There is more, much more yet to come.