Saturday, December 16, 2006


I am working nights right now. After my husbands doctors appointment I layed down.

I had been asleep for about an hour when Paul called me. This is odd because he is very careful not to bother me when I sleep.

"Don't be mad" was the first thing he said. Its never good when your husband starts off a conversation with "Don't be mad".

My husband is a musician. He is classically trained on guitar and has recorded some things with known musicians. I have heard him play on recording but the entire time I have known him I have never really heard him play.

He was in a car accident over a decade ago and with it he broke his back and his neck. He wasn't supposed to walk but did but continued to have trouble with his hands for years.

He started to get some of it back about 5 years ago but was then hit with the diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis.

After his accident he was pretty angry, but the thing that sent him over the edge was not be able to play guitar. He has had a rough life. I would not discuss most of it publically without him knowing but his upbringing was violent and invasive. So much so that if I did not trust this man with my life I would think he was making it up.

He turned to music for comfort, esteem, solace. Then it was taken away from him twice.

Over the years he realized it could be much worse. He has a family, great job, crazy wife. There all lots of things he throws himself into now for value.

I didn't realize how much he mourned it until the car ride home when he said he wanted a base guitar for Christmas. I have already tried twice for a Christmas present for him and he keeps blowing it by buying it or changing his mind so I told him he should wait just to make sure that he was feeling better.

When I got home I did some reasearch and tried to find money somewhere to get him one. When he came home with the car me and the girls were going to get him one.

"What do you mean don't be mad." I don't know why people say that. I was instantly mad.

He was guitar shopping. He had found one and had obtained financing for it and everything. I yelled at him, telling him he ruined his Christmas present again. He apologized and then I thought it was over. I could go and get it later.

Then he came home. And he had a bass guitar in his hand.

I was so angry and the old me would have screamed and freaked out. I would have made him see what a tool he was being. (I had previously called him a "dick" so 'tool' wasn't out of the question.

However it seems that God has granted me some sense and I saw how great the loss of not being able to play must have been to him. He has never really complained but it was obvious it pained him.

It hasn't been the not being able to play. It was the loss of the piece of himself that got him through all the terrible times.

So we talked. And he is keeping the guitar.

And he was happy.

And now I don't have to buy him a Christmas present.

And the guilt he is feeling has got to be good for some favors my way!!

The bass players are always the hottest too.


Blogger Margaret said...

I'm so not surprised. And to think I was going to email you and ask about contributing to the purchase of one for his birthday...

8:35 AM  

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