Cry, Cry, Cry

It turned into quite a beautiful spring day. We spent a lot of time playing in the yard with Phoenix, yard games, basketball, and a few tasks. Weekends still feel off without Chris, but I'm doing my best to get through them and provide some fun for the kids while getting the usual jobs done. One thing that I've gotten used to doing that Chris always took care of is packaging up the trash and recycling to take to the town transfer station. The dump closes at 6pm on Saturday and it's good to get there before the last second rush. I wanted to get rid of the trash since Phoenix is very interested in the full trash bags on the porch. As the afternoon proceeded toward evening, I loaded up and J helped me with the trash and recycling, with the bonus of then going to the Swap Shop. This is a place where residents can leave items they are done with but could have use for others, and people can pick up what they want. J loves finding trinkets at the Swap Shop and happily poked around to see what was there. As she looked for treasures, I idly rifled through a box of CDs. I did a double take as I saw the album Cry, Cry, Cry. As I often do, I became lost in my memories.

Cry, Cry, Cry is the name of a folk group that performed in the late 1990's, comprised of our favorite Dar Williams and two other singers Lucy Kaplansky and Richard Shindell. We didn't know much about this group until last year. Chris was always on the lookout for Dar's performances, and he saw that Cry, Cry, Cry was getting back together for a tour and had a performance in Northampton on 3/31/18 (the night before Easter). He bought tickets, reserved a hotel room so I wouldn't have to drive back late at night, and asked our niece to babysit overnight. It was our last overnight alone not counting the hospice house of course. 

We arrived in Northampton well before the show, checked in, then wandered around town to find a place to eat. We had been to Northampton to see Dar several times, at least three other times in this town, the first at the Calvin Theatre and then at the Ironhorse Music Hall a couple of times. That night was a relatively nice evening for the time of year, and the streets were full of people similarly enjoying spring. We headed for the Northampton Brewery but found it absolutely packed when we arrived. We shared a laugh because this was not the first time we had been shut out of this place before a Dar Williams concert. We tried to find a different restaurant but many were jammed with people and the show time was approaching. Finally we ended up at Amanouz Cafe, a Morrocan/Mediterranean place. As I often did in the last year, I ordered for both of us because Chris struggled to get the right words at times and it made situations like ordering stressful and awkward. On this particular weekend, Chris's word-finding issues were getting more pronounced and he was having a lot of vision problems. We were worried, but we enjoyed our time together.

The timing ended up to be perfect for the show - the doors were opening just as we arrived at the theater. In a turn of coincidence, we ran into some parent friends from Southborough. I remember being stressed because in our small talk, Chris could not come up with Dar Williams' name, calling her "the woman." Alarm bells were clanging loudly in my head. This was not like him. Dar's music was so special to Chris that it surprised me he couldn't say her name...

We took our seats and settled in together. Chris always liked to get seats close to the front for performances, his thinking being that if we were making the effort and spending the money to go, it was definitely worth it to pay more for better seats. We were on the side but close enough to really see the singers. We smiled when Dar took the microphone to speak and exchanged a look, one of those looks that couples share that convey the understanding of a lifetime together. We both were reliving many memories of listening to Dar's music and chasing around to catch her live.

We weren't familiar with the other two singers nor the Cry, Cry, Cry music, but in a way that made the concert more special. We sat back and let the new-to-us music wash over us. Chris had listened to one song ahead of time, The Ballad of Mary Magdalen, and he nudged me as the group began to play it. The song was plaintively beautiful, and the lyrics complex and interesting to think about.

The Ballad of Mary Magdalen

Chris loved the concert. He enjoyed it fully despite the worry and uncertainty of the moment in our lives. We both had tears in our eyes from the beauty of the rich harmonies and the bittersweet feeling of this maybe being the last time. In fact, it was the last time we saw Dar.

When I saw the Cry, Cry, Cry album in the Swap Shop I had to have it. I brought it home and played it immediately. As the first song filled the dining room, I remembered the feeling of that trip to Northampton. I had been so worried and stressed about GBM, the future, and losing Chris. I wish I could have set that aside and enjoyed that moment a bit better. There's no revising how I felt then, it was what it was. Now I can listen and listen, remember and remember, whenever I want. Some of the song lyrics touch off meaning out of context from the actual songs, and Chris would understand how I find him in these songs even though that wouldn't make sense to an outsider. He often talked about how he found music meaningful even if the context wasn't quite perfect for his connection to it. As I listen to one particularly gorgeous, harmonious song a repeated line makes me weep: 

I know what kind of love this is. I know what kind of love this is. I know what kind of love this is.

I do know what kind of love we have. This love is the real deal. The kind of love that lasted an entire marriage, through a crazy dramatic terminal illness, right up to the double doors when death parted us, and beyond. And beyond.  I know what kind of love this is. I am the luckiest person for having found this love. He also knew what kind of love this is, and what a gift to know that he did. I just want Chris back to draw sustenance from it with me in person...

I Know What Kind of Love This Is

There's another track that is fitting to my current state, hopefully, called By Way of Sorrow. The last of the lyrics are below. The music makes you want to tap your foot and the message is uplifting. Maybe if I listen enough I can believe that the sorrow and tears of the present are just part of a path toward something different.

All the nights that joy has slept
Will awake to days of laughter
Gone the tears that you have wept
You'll dance in freedom ever after

You have come by way of sorrow
You have come by way of tears
But you'll reach your destiny
Meant to find you all these years
Meant to find you all these years

By Way of Sorrow

A simple trip to the dump and Swap Shop gave me the gift of music, memory, and connections to Chris. I know that Cry, Cry, Cry meant something to Chris. He took a picture of the cafe where we had dinner as he did of the concert tickets. I have tucked them away in our scrapbook containing tickets and playbills from special times. I'll keep these things and always remember how special he was.