There are two specific songs that make me think of my late wife Robin. The first is well-known, the other is obscure. The first song is “Cant Find my Way Home,” by Blind Faith and the second is “Animal,” by Chrome. Please allow me to elaborate.
There was a moment, so long ago, when Robin and I were in bed together listening to music. The song, “Can’t Find my Way Home,” by Blind Faith came on. She and I listened to it in silence. I watched her. Even though she was a visual artist, I could see that this song was touching something deep within her soul. We were naked. I saw the sadness on her face. I looked upon her remarkable body. Her breasts were just so beautiful! We made passionate love. Please don’t get me wrong, Robin was more than just a pair of breasts to me, but she was so proud of them and with good cause! It was a standing joke between us that all she had to do was flash them at me, and I would go wild.
How I miss the tenderness and sweetness of her body close to mine! I miss those many moments when she was just a warm lump of flesh beside me in the bed that I woke up to every morning for over ten years. She was wise, but also canny. She knew how to hit me where it hurt. If we had an argument, she would sleep on the couch. Waking up alone in the bed the next day made my heart ache. I would give into whatever she wanted. Usually, what she wanted was for the best for both of us. Fellow men, listen to me when I tell you, if your wife puts her foot down, then she is in the right! Always listen to your wife. I regret every time I ignored Robin.
Now I will tell you about the song “Animal,” by Chrome. The first time she played this song for me, I shouted, “Turn it off! This is anti-music!” Being such an indulgent woman, she just laughed and turned it off. She didn’t try to push it on me. That’s the kind of person that she was. She would expose you to something. If you chose to accept it, fine. If you chose to reject it, that was fine too. After Robin’s death, I transferred her music library onto my computer. Now, I listen to this song, “Animal,” all the time! It’s fabulous! It’s crazy! It’s free! It expresses an animal instinct that lives within us all. I beg you all to check it out. At first it may repel you, but give it a chance. It’s an amazing song. It is so well orchestrated and even though the vocals are impossible to make out, well, that’s the whole point!
There is a third song that, unlike the previous two, I can no longer bear to hear. That is, “Darling Companion,” by Johnny Cash and June Carter (Live at Folsom Prison). When my sister and I were driving across country from Hollywood, California to Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, I put a CD in the car’s player. We listened to some songs and when this one came on, I burst into tears. This particular song is the definition of my relationship with Robin. I just can’t bear to hear it, unlike the two previous songs. To hear this man and woman sing to each other and compare their love to the majesty of nature is just too much to endure. This song was OUR SONG. We used to listen to it and hold each other close, dance to it, drive around in the car to it, make love to it. Luckily for me, it is a cover from Loving Spoonful’s John Catfish MacDonald. I can listen to his version, and think about the special love that Robin and I shared.
I will tell you. I am a broken man. The loss of my beloved Robin has left me bereft of any real desire to live. I’ve attempted suicide twice, just this past summer in the hope that I might find peace. On the first anniversary of her death, I had a complete nervous breakdown that caused me to check myself into the psych ward. I harbor so much guilt and sorrow regarding the circumstances of Robin’s death that I don’t think I can ever recover. Every morning when I wake up, I say to myself, “Oh, shit! I’m still alive!” It is so hard to get out of bed and begin some kind of a semblance of a day. People tell me, “Robin would not want you to be so immersed in your grief! She would want you to move on and live your life.” How little they know Robin. I know that she wants me to be a living testament to how special she was. I will self-flagellate, beat my breast and curse the Universe for taking her from me. That is what she would want and that is what I am doing.