…you help me sing my song…

This one is harder than some others to share. Let me get a few photos on here first.

Background on going to see Paul McCartney. I follow Sir Paul on Instagram and he has been posting photos and stories all along from his Freshen Up tour, and I knew it was coming to the States. And I thought, What if Tom and I try to see him in concert as our anniversary gift to each other?

We considered various dates, but there was always something in the way so that it wouldn’t work out–Arlington, New Orleans, Phoenix, Las Vegas, LA–I was looking at them all, but there were too many scheduling conflicts.

Finally, Tom said, “Look, I don’t care about this as much as you do. It would be a good concert, but it means a lot more to you than it does to me. You go. I’ll stay home and take care of things here.” One way you can stay married for 31 years is to understand and respect the other person and know sometimes you are an anchor, and sometimes you wish them wings.

My original Arlington choice was a good date and an easy drive. I left after transport on Thursday and worked in my hotel room that night and through the day on Friday, went to the concert Friday night, left Saturday to spend a day and night in Corsicana with Lynne (and worked from there, too–bless the Internet and WiFi), and returned to Houston Sunday. I needed time outside my space, outside my head, outside my routine.

So at the concert… I’m literally about as happy as I can be on this planet. I was exactly where I wanted to be when I wanted to be there. It’s a significant date in my life, June 14. On that date in 1992, I said goodbye to our friend Steve when he died because of AIDS. He and I always said, “Will you still need me when I’m sixty-four?”–and the answer was always, “Yes,” though we knew we weren’t really going to get that option.

I knew Steve (who was himself a musician and a conductor) would be delighted that I was at this concert. He wanted the people he loved to LIVE every minute after he was gone.

So I’m living in that moment, relishing every song, reminding myself every few minutes, This performer came into your life when you were seven. You watched him and his band CHANGE THE WORLD. He’s interwoven in your history, just as he is for millions of others…

And then he put down his guitar, went to his piano, and played “Maybe I’m Amazed.” I shocked myself because I started crying. We will always have new and wonderful relationships if we’re open to them, but I never forget that two of Paul McCartney’s most profound loves–part of both his emotional and professional lives–ended when John Lennon was murdered and when Linda McCartney died of cancer. They will always be an empty space on his stage.

Riley played that song for me on piano, too, and he was the empty space in the audience, so I cried. And that’s okay. Steve also once told me, “I’d be so sad if I thought no one would cry for me.” I’ve shed so many tears for both of them. I love them still and always will.

I like this video a person put on YouTube for the song. It celebrates Paul and Linda beautifully in photographs.

Maybe I’m amazed at the way
You’re with me all the time
And maybe I’m afraid of the way
I leave you

Maybe I’m amazed at the way
You help me sing my song
You right me when I’m wrong
Maybe I’m amazed at the way
I really need you