Need more than a little help

It goes without saying--let me rephrase that (since everyone is different and who am I to assume) so it goes without saying for me--that apart from the general awareness and related, underlying sadness that yes, she is gone, no she is never coming back, yes, this is the rest of my life without her, no I can't change it, ever, and then the obvious triggers (milestones in our lives, junk mail addressed to her, the automatic refill voicemail messages for drugs she doesn't need anymore...) that underscore that awareness and sadness so heavily I have to hold my breath, for a few seconds and contract every single muscle to let the moment pass, there are the [supposedly]completely innocuous triggers that come out from left-field. They deliver unexpected emotional punches that are as strong as a physical one to the gut--and I know this because, in the last two months, I have become intimately familiar with the various receptacles in a few of the public bathrooms of the places we frequent, and have had more than one person sympathetically ask me if it's my first and offer [unsolicited] advice from crackers to ginger to acupuncture.

I just nod and let them think what they do. In a way, it's not far from the truth: it is my first time.

I know I can't anticipate it. I don't try to anticipate it. It happened walking past the bedding aisle in Target, which was one of the last places we all were as a family, the day before the 'routine' procedure whose results shocked us, listening to my mom and dad argue about the pros (him) and cons (her) of flannel sheets. It happened coming across sale signs for Motts' Apple Juice, the only thing she could tolerate to drink other than very weak tea the last fews weeks before going to the hospital for the last time. It happened seeing ads for American Idol on the TV at the diner and remembering how my parents' commentary while they watched was funnier than anything on the show.

It happened during a game of mini-golf (the kid's latest passion) when this song came on through the speakers on the grounds, a song that was also the theme music to The Wonder Years, a show whose main [then child] star was an in-joke among us, due to my mom's slightly exaggerated but wickedly funny mimicking of what she called his 'oh! ah!' acting method.

By the way, I can't speak for the ladies' room, since it was 'Not Working' as the sign announced, but the [single occupancy] men's room at Pleasant Valley mini-golf course is very clean and well kept.*


A Little Help From My Friends (cover) - Joe Cocker
Side note: Yes, this one I know was originally sung by Ringo Starr, but that's only because I never heard it--the Joe Cocker version is the only one I knew (and long before The Wonder Years) and so found out about it, when I got the shock of my life about the other song he'd sung and then went out of my way to see what other ones I'd missed so obviously.




*They also have a good first aid kit in case you end up with a serious case of road rash on your leg. No not me, my brilliant progeny who has apparently inherited my talent for eking maximum damage out and then some out of what should be the tamest of accidents.