Being just 7 weeks pregnant, I was already in the deep of morning sickness. It got so bad that I was laying on the couch and asked Jude to make me a piece of toast with jam. He looked at me and said “You can’t make it yourself?” But to be honest, the thought of standing up, getting a slice of bread from the pantry, putting it in the toaster, waiting, spreading on jam on and coming back to the couch to sit down presumed to be too hard and I might throw up in the sink.
Weeks back, I randomly saw the The Classic Crime would be performing shows nearby, and had purchased a single ticket to attend what they were advertising as a “house jam” a short drive away. This was the band that when I was missing Lucas, I would listen to and it would transport me back to that time of my life.
The next morning when I woke up, I didn’t know if I would be able to make it. I was feeling nauseous and miserable. We threw a bridal shower for Ella at my house the day before, which I put on a face since only Chloe at the party knew I was pregnant, and was filling my mimosa with tonic water.
Jude came home that Sunday after a three day stretch at work, and I was literally wrestling with myself whether to go or not. Since his schedule was, of course, all over the place, I hadn’t had a ton of time with him and laying on the couch next to him all night sounded like the best option.
But, I was tugged to go.
I took the backway to the event. It was the same route I would take when I worked in college and would drive back to my university. Coming into the city from the opposite end flooded in memories of college. Mostly Memories with Chloe and the random parties we would attend based on the houses I was passing to get to this particular location. Then I found myself parking my car on a random street which I swear we hit up a party just around the corner.
The show was small. Intimate and perfect. Only the lead singer of the band was there and was singing acoustic – my absolute favorite. At the intermission, I didn’t want to eat the great looking food provided as I was mostly drinking water and trying to avoid any further nausea and sat back in my spot waiting for them to resume the show. The lead singer, asked if we had any requests. I raised my hand and responded with my two favorites: Salt in the Snow and the Coldest Heart to which he said ehhhh I’m not sure about Salt in the Snow but “For sure Coldest Heart.” That was Lucas’ song.
After he performed, people waited in line to talk to him. I don’t know why but I always get nervous before these type of things. Sure, I’m a huge fan and have listened to and enjoyed his music for years, but I have a fear of coming across as weird. But, whatever, I waited in line for my turn.
He was surprised to learn that I was from his hometown and knew his brother that was my same age. Small world. At the end of our conversation, I slowly said the words I had rehearsed in my head to share:
“One of my friends from Lynden, who I lost almost 2 years ago, is the reason I was introduced to and love your music.”
“I’m so sorry” he replied. I continued,
“Thank you, it’s ok. It’s just when I listen to your music, he doesn’t feel so far away. The one that reminds me the most about him is your song “The Coldest Heart” so I just wanted to hear from you what the lyrics were about.”
I had been warned about asking an artist regarding what a song means. Because it’s art, its supposed to be interpretive differently to each listener. And sometimes you could be let down by their answer. So I went into the conversation anticipating the worst yet I think with the way I phrased my question, he wanted to provide for me the most delicate answer.
“Umm…. Hmm…… well…..,” He continued to stall.
Then he went into a long-winded answer explaining that the song had to do with a record label from when they first started as a band and quickly in the music industry they learned that production companies are cold hearted and looking out for the best of themselves and not their artists. And then he ended his explanation with an abrupt: “Sorry”.
“No! It’s honestly ok!” I replied. “I just wanted to ask.”
I wasn’t surprised. His answer was fine and the right one. I had a hunch. I had wanted
to know the answer for so long, and I got what I came for.
But in actuality, did I get what I came for? This was just another example of me looking
for answers, meaning, any viable reason or explanation that could help satisfy my broken heart
for my lost friend. What did I want him to say? I already knew what the song meant to me. I
knew my heart was forever broken yet truly was no answer that would have mended my heart.
While you won’t find this exert in the book, purchase The Trail that Leads to You: A Journey
towards Self-Love, Transformation, and Inner Peace today!
