Friday 27 April 2018

Thursday 26 April 2018

More than a woman

Many beautiful and brave friends bless my life.  When one of those friends asked,
"Do you fancy an evening with a Bee Gees tribute?" I was honored but hesitant.
"Can I have a think about it and let you know?" Was my concerned reply.

The morning sun tried its best to pour either side of my poorly fitting blackout blinds and I snuggled, spoon fashion with my shih tzu.  He smelt good, in a doggy kind of way.  Just the right amount of musty.  Snoring loudly, he felt my hug grow tighter and moved away.  Gosh, I loved this little hairy fella.  Me and his 'Dad' were hoping for babies.  It wasn't meant to be.  After heartache, we chose this fur baby and never looked back.  Still we love him more than words.  We just do it separately now.  Organising 'sleep overs' at Dads house is fun for both of them.  Since we divorced, things remained friendly.  Yet the Bee Gees was his band.  Well, him and Aunt June.  Many conversations were shared between them with a bond firmly set talking about the Brothers Gibb. 

Could I see the band with the knowledge that it might hurt a little bit? Maybe more than a bit.  "How deep is your love" was played at the oh-so-grand wedding of ours all those years ago.  Many tears were shed that day.  A day full of promise and fairytales.  Just sometimes, life takes a different course than the one you imagined.  Yet could I see the band?
"You're not the only single person there, don't worry." My wonderful friend reassured me.  Which was never a worry for me.  Many occasions have seen me arrive solo, determined not to let life dictate such limited life choices.  It more was a case of would I cry at the songs? Could I see the band? 

Live music moves me.  Recorded music moves me. Just pure voices move me. 

I decided to see the band.  Almost at the point of finding the perfect excuse of Mum not being well,  I put things into place, fixed the lipstick and drove.  Off to see the band.
Walking toward the theatre in the centre of the high street, I passed some people settling into doorways for the night.  Counting my blessings, I remembered gratitude.  Although these people I saw seemed happy enough, no issues seemed to phase them.  Certainly not a certain song attached to a certain memory. 

Doubting I would ever love again, I strutted as if it were the 1970s and I was more than a woman.  The heels, the hair flicks and swoosh, I could do this. I got this.  Where does that strength come from?  Who knows?  I don't know.  Yet it seems to. 

We took to our bouncy blue velvet seats and smelled the dry ice. Watching it begin to filter the lights.  Illuminating the stage were reflections from the high hats on the drummers kit.  Oh, live music.  Wonderful.  Soon into the evening, sharing laughter with my big group of friends, the band members took to the stage.  Seeming unlikely we would see a warm up act, confirmation arrived in the shape of three men dressed in black leather (tight) trousers, sunglasses and half undone shirts revealing fairly toned chests.  These guys were the more recent Bee Gees lookalikes rather than the early Bee Gees. 

Grinning and nodding towards the audience in a kind of 'hello', some music starting with the "5,6,7,8" accompanied by the wooden tap of two drumsticks together high in the air saw these three men begin to lift their microphones.  Crowd pleasers at every opportunity, the audience started toe tapping.  They were good.  I became entranced.  At the end of the first song, the lights darkened into black and a single spotlight lit up a very British young man dressed in a high turtleneck and a smart, modern suit.  His mic was attached to the side of his cheek and he smiled widely.  Beginning to narrate the story of the Bee Gees.  Most of it was well known, some less so. Although likely Aunt June and my friendly ex would know such tales.  I smiled as I listened to a story of wonder through the years, of ups and downs, of dreams come true and some shattered.  The heartbreak of family ties floating to heaven.  Feeling a heavy chest, I was concerned for 'How deep is your love'.  Needing not to worry, not a tear was seen.  Despite acting more than a woman, I did sense my face change in surprise as "How can you mend a broken heart" was breathed through the microphone. 

Reminding myself that all is well wasn't difficult on this night.  Surrounded by friends, I was thankful for this special time.  Gratitude filled my heart for memories of times gone by.  I got this.
© Louise Usher. All rights reserved.