Love Survives

​Scene One – MY STORY – Madison, Wisconsin, June 3, 2012, 7:15 a. m.
 
He ate a doughy and flavorless bagel in his dream. Bobbie tossed from left to right and faced into the golden morning sun – awake. A corner of his bedsheet, crumpled and wet from chewing, hung from his mouth then dropped to the bed as bile arose from his gut.

Bobbie had another restless night, one of many since he visited his grandmother Meta’s grave last November. His search for her resting place in the cemetery was nearly fruitless until a woodpecker, a messenger in native folklore, guided him to her grave. Sharp raised bronze letters of her burial plaque pressed into his cold numbed fingers, Meta J. Williams. J? Dad never mentioned his mother’s middle initial. What else did Meta, the grandmother Bobbie never met want him to know?
 
Bobbie rose from bed, stuffed his feet into lamb’s wool slippers, and rubbed his neck. Coffee would help clear the frustrating dream from his memory and maybe a phone call to Dan. Dan would sort out last night’s dream and what he felt Meta wanted him to know. Damn, Meta’s dead. How could she want him to know anything?
 
Listening to ghosts now, are you Bobbie? Dan might say. And, I would shamefully reply, Yeah, probably too hopeful, Dan. Sorry I brought it up. But no, not this time, too many dreams, and restless nights. This time I’ll tell Dan my story.
 
Scene Two – WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO KNOW? – Madison, Wisconsin, June 3, 2012, 8:00 a. m.
 
“Hey farmer, are you still sleeping?” I ask.
 
“What the hell, Bobbie, I’ve been up for hours,” Dan says. “Got to get those cows out in the field.”
 
I draw a deep breath. “You don’t have any cows. All you have is that slipper- eating Corgi you call Biscuit.  Could you be serious? I’m having a bad morning.”
 
Dan’s voice softens. “What’s up, Bro?”
 
The cellphone warms my hand. “Remember when I drove to Milwaukee to look for my Grandmother’s grave?”
 
“Yeah, sure,” Dan says. “It was shortly after your father died. A woodpecker guided your way.”
 
“Yes. When I found her grave, I fell to my knees and asked her, ‘What do you want me to know?’ What I never told you was she answered my question.”
 
“She spoke to you?”
 
“Not exactly. But in my heart, I knew what she wanted me to know.”
 
“What was that?”
 
“Love survives.”
 
Scene 3 – META © – Top Note Studio, Madison, Wisconsin, November 8, 2012, 10:00 a. m.
 
“Hey, Bobbie, let’s take it from the top,” Kevin says. “You asked for a recording of your new song and I’m here to help.”
 
“I really appreciate your time, Kevin.” I say. “Meta © is the title. Lyrics and music are copyrighted. I own all rights to the music as an unsigned artist. I’m looking to place the music with another musician, studio, or music supervisor for production and distribution.”
 
“Let’s record when you’re ready,” Kevin says.
 
“Here goes,” I say. “I dedicate this song, to my grandmother, Meta. I imagined grandfather writing Meta a letter before he left for war.”
 
“Meta, Meta I love you.
But I must leave today.
Meta, I love you,
More than words can ever say.
Meta, Meta I love you.
I’ll fight this war today.
And, I’ll write you this letter,
Before they take me away.
 
I’ll tell you I love you,            
The way that I want you.
The way that I see you,
The way that I need you.
 
There’s a knock upon the door,
A fear I’ve never felt before.
Meta, they’re calling,
I’ll go, I must go.
I’ll soldier on alone,
Though far away from home.
The bugle that calls me,
Will play your refrain.
 
Remember I love you,
The way that I want you.
The way that I see you,
The way that I need you.
 
Meta, Meta I love you.
I must go on my way.
Meta, I love you,
More than words can ever say.
More than words can ere’ express,
No poet can describe,
How I love you dear Meta,
My true heart abides.      
 
How I love you dear Meta,
My true heart abides."
 
 THE END

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Richard Wilberg, MS, PLCC, ACC 
Creativity Coach for Personal Fulfillment and Career Success