us to get together and spend a whole Saturday on her little chaise chair-holed up in front of the computer screen poppin’ YouTube songs and videos and singing our hearts out going hammer at it! I mean, we could go for like 8 hours doing this and only stopping to cook or run to the store, but then back at it.
So you’ll understand this next happening a few years ago.
We were driving to pick up her daughter from her baby’s dad’s house and low and behold—this song came on as we were pulling in the driveway of his house.
*holds hand up (Jesus be a fence, please …lol)
I mean we went AT it-singing and blasting that song up to disrespectful decibels-we couldn’t help it!
“Girl did you HEAR HIM?! He said ‘Let me heal you baby!’ I KNOW that’s right ”
I mean-we were in our own world singing for those few minutes until we were drunken-like. By the time her daughter stepped out to the car we were like: “Oh.”
We totally forgot about everything: why we were there, who were we coming for-all that. All we could do was laugh. I never forget that day. We both hadn’t heard the song for a long time, so it was like: Whoa. It felt like sliced, warm bread that filled us up.
The Fond Memory Turned Irony
I’m an 80s baby. And when we were kids, a group of my close friends and me-all who lived on the same street (next door and across the walkway), would get together and take turns singing songs while the rest of us would be each other’s audience. We would gather and have candy parties and sing-for hours-(and snicker at the friends of ours who couldn’t hold a note but tried), and every session/get-together-tried, regardless. It was cute. That was our favorite little activity and at my house only. It was the only place to do it that seemed natural (and uninterrupted). My mom would allow us to have however long we wanted to be downstairs singing, eating candy and drinking our little juice drinks. It was our little “social.”
So my friend Nay-Nay had 1 favorite: and it was this song (“Lady in my Life).”
Low and behold, none of knew until maybe years later and when we were older and separated that all that time [on the part that says]: “And maybe through the years-girl I’ll love you more each day”—her saying “girl I’ll love you Morris Day,” was all wrong. But we were kids and it was cute.
The Heartbreaking Irony of a memory
I was writing this very blog (about Michael Jackson ironically where in it, towards the end, I interjected something about this very same song).
At closing of the blog, I got a text from my brother saying that my mother (who had already been sick for a while) may not make it this time. I’d gotten this call before and by the grace of goodness and God, she would be ok all those other times. Still, like I’d always do: I prepared to head over to the hospital.
But this time, I didn’t prepare, I just slipped on something and ran out the house-looking a mess-practically putting my shoes on outside. It was something about this time that seemed like the last time to me-like never before.
As I was pulling up to park at the hospital-this song came on the station I was listening to. As I exited the car, it was ending.
I made it up to the floor and my mother’s emergency was the real deal this time, and were told to stand outside. I looked further down and there was Nay-Nay (whose mom was next door-dying too). We all grew up on the same street together and all our moms were BFF’s and all went to the same high school together. And there we were, grown now-and hadn’t seen each other for years, in the same hospital, right next door to each other as our moms were about to die at the same time.
My mom ended up dying, and hours later, while the doctors where still in with Nay’s mother, she came over to peek in on me-laying there watching my mother lay stiff for what was going on 3 hours now.
So Nay and me hugged and talked. My heart was overflowing-standing there thinking about the irony of it all:
Nay (who I hadn’t seen in years)’s favorite song (Lady In My Life) happened to be the same song that was playing when I exited the car to go in to the hospital.
And too, her birthday was on the 24th of February, her dying mom next door’s birthday was the 24th of July, and born on the 24th day of September was the lady (no longer) in my life: My mother.
My heart was so broken while I stood there listening to Nay point at my mom’s near-rigor mortis body laying there, having no idea the fond memories she brought up was helping to dry my tears and soothe my aching heart…
Long story short and on a lighter note, thankfully, Nay’s mom made it.
And life had to go on for me.
And I can never listen to this song anymore without crying-because it now means something altogether different than me and Stephanie holed up in the car, Nay’s chopping and screwing the words.
Now when I hear it, I hear only the melody, the chorus, and see the irony of that March 7, 2014 day all coming kind of oddly full circle: The same memory of the song and the little girl [turned grown woman] singing it in the living room of mom’s house-was now standing right there in front of me and my deceased mom…and the last song I’d heard—was that very song.
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ON A LIGHTER NOTE:
Speaking of things coming full circle, look at these two pictures:
The mastermind and impresario behind the magic of the Thriller album (Quincy Jones-pictured 1st) is collecting his Grammys from years ago.
The next picture-Michael Jackson-is collecting his Grammys for Thriller, years later.
See how life comes full circle in odd ways?
Spitfire .
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .
