Friday, May 21, 2010
A House Is Not A Home
06 Empty House
Originally uploaded by Anguluri
Tonight's post has a music accompaniment on my PlayList. If you like, just hit play.
I am a big Burt Bacharach fan. I have his whole collection of songs song by all the original artists. Somehow his music transports me to a very happy and loving time in my childhood. I used to hear all of Burt Bacharach's music around the house, and in the car radio. As I got older I continued to seek out his music, and collect some of his recordings. A few years ago he collaborated with another of my favorites, Elvis Costello, and they made such gorgeous music together. It was the perfect collaboration in my mind.
Recently Burt's music was profiled on an episode of Glee. I'm a late arriving fan of the television show, and found myself in pure ecstasy listening to the cast perform some of my favorite songs. And throw in Kristin Chenoweth, well, it was simply a gay man's heaven.
This all got me thinking about why I am planning this move. I love my house, and I'm proud of all the hard work I put into it over the years. It was quite a fixer, and it has taken quite a bit of effort to get it to where it is today. It has provided me with many happy memories, and has taught me many new skills. Then four years ago I provided me with a space to welcome Michael into my fold, and join my family. Up until then I always considered my house to be a home, and indeed it was. But I had no idea how much more transformed it would become. When love came my way, and I invited it in. Everything I had took on such new meaning.
This couch that I sit on became a place where Michael would sit in each other's arms, or with our legs wrapped around one another, reading, doing Sudoku, or watching a movie. That kitchen became a place where we put our love into the preparation of meals for the kids, or for our many visitors. That small kitchen at times transformed into a ballroom where we would spontaneously dance around, arms firmly around each other.
I go down to my bedroom each night, and it screams of his absence. Yes, at times it easier. At times I can absorb the essence of his spirit, or the memories of all the wonderful intimate moments shared. But most nights it brings my spirit down. Most nights it causes me tears.
He is not here. He is not here.
I think the kids feel this too. If not the same feelings, they feel my difference. I am no longer the same in our home. I have lost my joy. I feel beaten, and I feel betrayed. Not by my home, but by life. Some nights when sleep won't come I sit up in my bed and say out loud, "okay, you won." I'm not sure who, or what, I am talking to. I just know that I have lost that which I cherished the most. I deserved to be happy, and I was. I just thought I would have it longer than I did. I didn't expect it to be forever. Just a day or two shy of forever.
All of this weighs so heavy upon my chest. I can barely breath anymore.
I am slowly suffocating.
I pray for some relief.
And yet, misery is becoming quite familiar. At times it is my only company.
"A House Is Not A Home" by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.
A chair is still a chair, even when there's no one sittin' there
But a chair is not a house and a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight
A room is a still a room, even when there's nothin' there but gloom
But a room is not a house and a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart
Now and then I call your name
And suddenly your face appears
But it's just a crazy game
When it ends, it ends in tears
Pretty little darling, have a heart,
Don't let one mistake keep us apart
I'm not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs and turn the key
Oh, please be there, sayin' that you're still in love with me