Wednesday, June 17, 2015

It's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves

Last night, I had the change to see Bette Midler in concert. She is the ultimate performer and this was the 3rd time I have seen her live. It was an amazing experience and one I won't soon forget.

My dad loved Bette. It seems stereotypical to say a gay man loved Bette, but it's the truth. He also loved Cher and the opera and well, many things that were stereotypical for him to love! He took me to see her at Radio City Music Hall when I was in college and it is one of the fondest memories of us together. Cheering and signing (he usually belting out the wrong words and not giving a damn) and us bonding over the love of a live performance. It was fabulous.

Last night, I went to the show with one of my dearest friends. My friend since high school that my dad simply adored. The feeling was mutual. Gary bought the tickets for us and said to go enjoy. And enjoy we did.

My dad was with us last night. From the first martini to the third encore, he was there.

The Divine Miss M spoke a lot through her show. That is one of the things I like about her performances. Much of what she said resonated with me. But one thing in particular stuck with me. Songs are organic and change they way we change. A song that once meant one thing can start to mean another at a different stage in your life. A song about heartache could once have been for a long lost love and is now about the loss of a love.

"Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose"

I have always loved that song. Now it reminds me of the person that Miranda will one day grow up to be. I am not sure why, but it does.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be
I could fly higher than an eagle
For you are the wind beneath my wings

Those lyrics remind me of Allie. She is the gentle force that is with us day in and day out and pushes us to be our best.

Now I know for sure that those lyrics meant something different the first time I heard them. And I know they meant something different when I heard them with my dad. I also know that last night, they meant something different once again. I guess that is what I love about music so much.

My eyes filled up a few times last night. There were tears for those I have loved and for those that I have lost. Mostly, though, the tears were little drops of memories that flooded my soul. My soul that is very much alive and remembering the spirit of those that are not.

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