Cher

My Beloved Father passed away four months and one day ago today.  I can’t begin to describe how my life has changed since that day.  Of course, there are the obvious changes.  But then there’s the growth in my Warrior Spirit as I unfearfully prepare to face Goliath (I won the battle, but the war is far from over).  There are the thoroughly unexpected changes in my personal life.  There are the changes in my perspective and my attitude and my outlook and everything else. 

My heart turned stone cold when my Dad’s did.

My interest in others withered during those two months of solitude after I returned from California.

My hope died when Sunshine did.

And then I got a Cher ticket.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As a child, I wanted three things:

1.    To be a writer.

2.    To go to Paris.

3.    To be Cher.

  

I’ve been writing in one way or the other since I was five.  The future my Dad left me is one in which I can write in the way I’ve always wanted (creatively). 

I had my fill of academic writing around 1994, after the publication of my first Statistics textbook.  The publisher pulled it after a year, as it was out-selling all of the other stats texts and the “more established” authors were upset.  “You’re so talented, we know you’ll be successful.  Just not here,” the publisher told me as it ended my five-year contract four years early.  How many times have I heard that??

But I digress.

I got to go to Paris in 2008.

And then…in my darkest moment, right when I accepted that my happiest days were behind me…a ticket to see Cher in concert appeared right before my very eyes.

I LIVED for The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour on Sunday nights.  No matter how bad my Mama was raging, she always stopped for The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour (she always stopped for Laugh-In, too…and Mork and Mindy) and we would laugh and sing and have a wonderful time.

By the time I was old enough to attend concerts, Cher wasn’t touring.  When she started touring again, I was in a different universe.  She announced her FINAL tour right when I swung out of the Two Felony Tango. 

That whole last 40 hours in the hospital, as I was watching my Dad die and praying for the strength to do the right thing and make the right decisions and GOD PLEASE HELP ME KEEP IT TOGETHER THIS IS MY DAD WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HERE AND MY ACTIONS ACTUALLY MATTER I kept hearing in the back of my mind:  “You make it through this; you’ll see Cher.  You make it through this; you’ll see Cher.” 

It was my Dad’s voice and so I kept going through hell. 

And then last Saturday night, I was in the same theater as someone I’ve admired since I was 2. 

It only took two shuttles, two plane rides, one near-miss, 13 hours of travel, and a missive from The Knight to Goliath.

In addition to everything else.

~ ~ ~ ~

Like I said, the battle with Goliath is far from over.  I see how naïve it was for me to think it would stand down after that swift kick to the nuts.  Now the beast is enraged and it’s coming at me and my house full force. 

I’m not scared. 

I saw Cher live in concert, something I gave up on a long time ago.  Now I feel like I can achieve anything.

It’s not “getting the stuff” (although the stuff is really cool) that’s making me feel empowered; it’s that Life really IS about living in the overflow.  Life didn’t abandon me.  I’m not cut loose, floating randomly in the Universe.  Yes, crap happens and Life isn’t easy but it isn’t crappy 100% of the time.  Even those last 40 hours in the hospital were not 100% pure torturous agony each and every nanosecond.

It’s in those still, small moments of non-crap that the seeds of blessing are planted.

In those still, small moments of reaching out to God when my Dad was dying, the seeds of my future blessings were planted. 

In those still, small moments of experiencing Bucket List #1 this past weekend I KNOW the seeds of my victory over Goliath were planted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My Dad’s solution to life’s troubles was jazz.  If troubles got tough, the solution was live jazz.  If troubles got really tough, the solution was a trip to NYC.

You know where I’m going next.