rick, my dad

I'm at a loss for how to introduce him in this space. He was larger than life. He grew up in the deserts of El Paso, TX along with his five brothers; raised by a strong-minded, feisty-as-hell Scottish woman and her old-school, not-terribly-progressive, but completely devoted husband.

He enlisted in the Air Force right out of high school, but he was the kind of soldier who'd cross the street just to avoid having to salute an officer. Shortly after enlisting, he married the youngest sister of his Air Force buddy, in the summer of 1979, after his buddy brought him home for Thanksgiving dinner the previous year.

He loved fast cars, poetry, loud music, soft music, history, motorcycles, philosophy, his friends, his kids and his wife.

He loved fiercely.

He was loyal, to a fault.

Hard-working, but he always stressed the value of not working at the expense of enjoying life.

He wore his heart on his sleeve and made no apologies for it.

He was a hard-core biker, armchair theologian, blue-collar philosopher, brilliant mechanic and engineer, and the most charismatic person in the room, wherever we went.

He was my rock, my hero, my first love, my best friend. I was his shadow growing up and I was his pride and joy. He was my advocate, my favorite teacher, the one who taught me that my best bet against the bullies of the world, was to simply become smarter than them all. More significantly, he taught me how to fight and how to love.

In the fall of 1998, I was kidnapped and became a victim of sex-trafficking. There isn't enough space here to share that story. The important part for the purposes of this post is that Dad found me. And with a pistol pointed at my captors, carried me away to safety. I was flown out of Texas to Minnesota within 48 hours of my rescue.

I broke his heart when I told him that I'd decided to stay and start a new life here.

Eight months later – I know, I know – while rebuilding my new life in Minnesota, I married a boy I met at a bar.

The song here is the one I chose for Dad and I to dance to. Dad loved to dance, but we barely moved while the song played. He just held me as we rocked back and forth on the dance floor that night. That marriage didn't last, but the memory of mine and dad's dance is unspeakably precious to me now.

Five years passed, and I watched helplessly as my Dad, swallowed up by misplaced guilt and despair, drank himself into near-oblivion, nearly even losing his marriage.

Tragically, on Thanksgiving Day 2003, he died of an overdose. He was only 43 years old.

On the day of his funeral, I walked up to the lectern to deliver my eulogy. All I could do was read the lyrics of this song. After reading them, I walked behind me to the casket where he was and placed the lyrics into his suit pocket. I stayed there for what was likely an uncomfortable amount of time for many of the attendees, with my head on his chest, eyes streaming tears I was convinced had dried up in the preceding days.

This song is sacred to me. It was sacred to him. Sacred to us, this is our love song.

•

Because You Loved Me | Celine Dion | LYRICS | PHOTO

jeff

"You've got to be kidding, right?" – my response to my assistant at work, 11 years ago, when she suggested that I meet her husband's closest friend, Jeff. I'd just spent 3 months hearing story after story, of the wild antics and wild seeds sown by those two men.
 
I was a single mom at the time. Working full time and attending classes at night at the community college. I made sure to keep men like him far, far away.
 
But she insisted. She pleaded, telling me I needed a night to just have fun, one night when I wouldn't have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. Further reassuring me, she explained that I had nothing to worry about, since Jeff "didn't do second dates" anyways.
 
He called for a second date less than 24 hours after the first one. Eight months later, we found out we were expecting the first of the two children we'd have together.
 
Nearly 11 years later, and I find myself going through another bitter, heart-wrenching divorce.
 
I'll be the first to admit that I have an unhealthy (high) threshold for toxic and abusive behavior, but picking me up and throwing me all the way across our bedroom to crash against our closet doors, when all I was trying to do was take his sloppy-drunk-ass to bed, so that he'd just pass out and stop scaring the children, crossed it.
 
I finally made him leave after that night. Who knew, even I have breaking point.
 
I love him, miss him, hate him. I feel brave, humiliated, proud, ashamed, strong and broken.
 
"Better Man" speaks to this raw place I find myself in.
 
Fuck.
 
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A FUCKING LOVE SONG.

steven

There are so many great songs that we've shared with each other since meeting.

But during a recent conversation the other night, we both agreed that something changed in our relationship the night I sent him this one.

It was a stormy night, and we'd been talking about my love of thunderstorms, which led him to share of his late mother's love of storms, and how the power of that memory of her has always stayed with him.

I'd actually heard this song the night before and nearly sent it to him then, but hesitated. We were still very new to each other, and I wasn't sure how I felt about him knowing how strongly I felt about him yet. And I knew this song would be a revealing one to him.

I was glad to have practiced some uncharacteristic restraint when hearing it for the first time, because it turned out that the following stormy night was the perfect time to send it.

This song opened the flood gates. And though more meaningful songs have been shared since then, this song is the one I sent to reveal to him the passion that was blossoming in me for him.

Incidentally, he felt the same way. Once he knew how I felt, and felt safe enough to admit the same.

Well, nothing's been the same since.

•

Caught Up In Your Storm | Mickey Guyton | LYRICS

peep

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