I so miss that man

Despite doing my best to move forward with my life, I cannot help but have daily moments to remind me of how much I miss that man.

I am not morbid.  I am looking to the future with optimism.  But I still cannot help but miss that enormous void my life has now.

It was at a delightful venue this evening when a wave of loss flooded over me.  

It was such a pleasant evening too, as many in the past weeks have been.  The weather has been kind to us and tonight the weather helped set the scene for the first Christmas event of the season for me.

Tony and I have been loyal supporters of the local Historical Society ever since it first inaugurated itself some years ago.  I love history, particularly New Zealand and local history, and when an associate of ours advertised in the local community asking whether there would be any local Mt Albert residents interested in forming a historical society based on the community of Mt Albert we put our hands up, sent  our monies forward and thus became two of the thirty or so first members of the Mt Albert Historical Society.

It has always been based in the historic Alberton House which is the oldest, grand home on the slopes of Mt Albert.  Each year the society has grown and each year it has had numerous events of which Tony and I would sometime attend.  When they began their first Christmas evening in Alberton House, we were there to enjoy local musicians play and sing along with the Christmas carols whilst supping wine and nibbling at Christmas mince pies.

The last time we went to one of these was four years ago, or was it three?  No matter – it was a warm and sunny evening and standing on the verandah surrounding the old homestead, looking out over the hundred year old trees was the ultimate in early summer pleasantness.  We were lucky that year as one of the local Mt Albert families, the Harrops, who are known for being a family of musical renown, played the pianos, clarinet and sang for the group of attendees.  It was delightful as Cathy Harrop is a well know local opera singer so we had an evening of local entertainment, with locally made Christmas nibbles among happy locals who cared about their Mt Albert community.

A few weeks ago I was sent notification of this year’s Christmas event and determined that I would attend and contacted a friend who I knew would thoroughly enjoy the mere two hour event.

So Fiona and I wandered along to Alberton House this evening, were greeted by some local man who is the chairman of the historical society, purchased a couple of raffle tickets, were handed glasses of non-alcoholic punch – our choice, there was ample wine – and sat back to enjoy the early entertainment of the evening.  This was a local man who neither of us knew but who we quickly picked up has been given a knighthood by a government at some time, as folk addressed him as Sir Harold, or was it Sir Harry?  Can’t remember. 

Sir Whoever then introduced us to a women who has lived in Mt Albert for some years who, along with her husband and family, are accomplished violinists.  Therefore we were to be entertained by the lady violinist who would alternate entertaining us with her classical violin between Sir Whoever singing us songs in his aging baritone voice.  He was accompanied on the piano by his cousin who is also a local resident.

So we sat back, with punch to sip and listened to violins, baritones and pianos. We even had a few jolly good chuckles, as we do, at our own expense. Fiona had deduced that she would have been the youngest in the room, and she's seen a few decades herself.  So that bemused us, along with a number of other private jokes between us. We were relaxed, taking in the atmosphere.

Could do much worse on a beautiful Friday summer early evening.  It was near perfect for both Fiona and I, for both of us were exhausted from busy days and sitting and relaxing like this made the soul feel good.  That is, until later in the proceedings when it was time for Christmas carols.

Now laugh as you will at the mere mention of Christmas carols.  But where ever you are, if Christmas carol singing is on the agenda you will find very few people who don’t actually begin to enjoy humming or singing along with the much loved and nostalgic carols.  We did.  Until it got to Silent Night.  And that’s when it happened.

It is as though a pot of boiling lard is tipped through the insides of the body.  It travels from the top of the skull, down through the body, when it hits the heart it adds a leaded weight to it and then pours down and out through the toes.  It’s called emotion.  Unexpected, hot flowing emotion. 

It was my soul, missing that man.

But it’s OK.  Remember, it’s tears of love.  I leaked a few tears of love.  And the tears have got softer.

Come a couple of carols later I roused my attention back and was blasting forth with We Wish You A Merry Christmas.