An emotional sneak attack

(originally written 10/19/06)

So there I was, walking around Lowry Park Zoo, getting some exercise (it's nice having an annual pass), feeling pretty good and listening to the iPod.

Then "He Went To Paris" by Jimmy Buffett came on.

I should have known better, but I let it play.

If you've never heard it, it's a ballad about a man who ... well, goes to Paris. He's a young man, and he thinks he'll stay for a little while and move on. Instead, as the song says, "four or five years slip away." Then he goes to England, gets married and has a son, then "20 more years slipped away." Then there's World War II, and both his wife and son die, and he loses an eye. He heads to the islands, where Jimmy meets him and he says:

"Jimmy, some of it's magic and some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way."

I'm crying now thinking about it.

The song's never had that effect on me before, but when I hear it, I think of the life Deb and I didn't have, the places we didn't go, and yes, the children we didn't have.

That's the thing about death. It doesn't just take away the person you love. It takes away your future with that person. And in my case, Deb was my future and my present.

I was so overwhelmed by the mourning that I cried at the zoo, next to the emus. I can only imagine what they thought.

Maybe one day there'll be a new future for me to look forward to, with new opportunities and new people. For now, though, I mourn the things that can never be.