the day the music died

730 am. The house is quiet. My room full of stale air and snoring from the dog spralled out in bed with me. I kick the comforter off and I am assailed with the cold. It makes my legs tingle and I shiver involuntarily. I sit up, astonished at the news I just read on my blackberry. My chest tightens, my breath catches in the back of my throat and it aches to be released. Tears begin to crowd in my eyes, one small move and they gush down my cheeks. I am powerless to stop the flow.
I cry silently. I've never been a hysterical cryer. The only way to tell how deeply something has effected me is the length of time in which my tears stay wet on my cheeks.
Today they are dripping off my chin and jawline, onto my chest.
My cellphone sits uselessly in my hand.
I contemplate the sliver of light that is cast from my window onto my leg, up my body, and across the now quiet dog.
Mental anguish. I think most people put themselves through it when someone they love dies. Its natural. All the wonderful things that the person was to you come to mind. The joy you shared. The sorrow you shared. Then the regret.
I hadn't seen her for 5 years.I had always claimed she was my favorite. How could I have gone 5 years without seeing her? What kind of person does that?
The tears flow heavily at this point. Drenching my face, as I read and reread the news hoping for a glimmer of misunderstanding.
How could a woman as vibrant as that actually be gone from this world? It simply must be a mistake.
I can sit idle no longer. My grief leading me to leave this silent place and be away.
I wake the sleeping dog, and drive. All my favorite streets wiz by under a canopy of rain. Its fitting that today it is stormy. A tribute to her I know. I settle in a parking spot at the beach and look out over the endless waves. I begin to cry again. I wonder at my unusual response. Why do we use life as our exscuse when in fact it is our inability to say no to more responsibilty that leads us to fall out of touch with the ones we love.
There is too much life at this beach. I leave
Driving has always been theraputic to me. It calms me in a way nothing else can. I move my car to a different beach and listen to the waves splash against the rocks and the rain pound my hood. This beach is deserted. At least here no one will see me beginning to sob. This is the perfect place to release it all.