My husband arrived in Australia on the 30th of November. He left again on Saturday the 8th of December. One week later. I don’t know if or when he will return. I don’t know how I feel and I don’t know what I want. I don’t have a plan. I wish I had a time machine where I could go back and help him make better choices. I wish I could protect us both from the pain that we are feeling right now. But I can’t. So I don’t know what to do. I’m in an absolute state of unknowing. It’s terrifying.
On Saturday night I went to a concert with my sisters and my gorgeous niece. A night that had been planned for months. I never thought that this concert would fall in the context that it did. but it did. And so we went, as my husbands plane took off from the runway at the airport, we arrived at the concert grounds. Four women. One unspoken heart ache.
The incredible Australian artist I went to see has been a part of my life for a long time. We all have a relationship with music, different music. But I know you know what I mean when I talk about the way music touches you, and speaks to you and helps you – Her’s has always spoken to me. Her songs are part of the soundtrack of my life. There are ones that make me cry and others that make me laugh and the odd few that make me stand up and be accountable. And here I was. Standing in front of her for the very first time. On the most painful day of my life so far. My body aching from the emotion. My heart pounding in my throat. My skin stinging with betrayal. I stood in a crowd of hundreds, alone, in the company of many.
The photos are blurred. Which was a result of poor settings and shaking hands… but I like them that way. They feel more like I feel…
I watched her play her beautiful music and somewhere in there for the tiniest moment I was outside myself. I wasn’t the woman who had just discovered her husbands affair. I wasn’t the mother who had just put her daughters father on to a plane to far off lands. I wasn’t the person grieving her partner, her best friend, her future. I wasn’t any of the things that I had been for the past five days. I was just a girl. A girl surrounded by strangers with ears filled with music. And that was OK.
I listened and I swayed and I sipped cider and I let myself fill with the music that I had listened to for years. I let it pour into me until I couldn’t hold anymore. And when the wave of it rolled over me, it unearthed my deepest emotions and pushed what I was feeling to the surface. In that moment I broke, in the throngs of the pit at the concert. At that moment my knees buckled and my face cracked open and the tears rolled fast and loose down my hot cheeks like acid leaving pathways in their wake. In that very moment three hands were placed on me, strong, silent, loving hands. One on each shoulder and one on my back. Three hands from three women in my life. Your heart is fierce. They whispered to me. Your heart is fierce. And for the first time since my heart was broken, for the briefest of moments, I just let myself cry.