The calendar on the wall contains “Red Letter Days”. Those days highlighted in a different print color so those of us dinosaurs who have an analog watch and a calendar, with no cute pictures, on the wall, can see in to the future what holidays are on the horizon. A few of us still, around October when vendors pass out the next year’s schedule of upcoming events, start to mark in the red letter days marking the holidays in our life. Family birthdays, anniversaries, vacations and any other significant event which needs to be marked for quick reference and remembrance. I was always amazed at how Meredith could remember dates of events from the past. This is an art I have never and will never be able to master. Hence the writing on the wall (calendar). But the date which will never appear on any of my orbital tracking devices will be the day when Meredith was set free from her suffering. A day I longed to have arrive and dreaded at the same time. A day that is forever burned in my memory. The day that all circumstances were completely out of control. We had planned for this day. But so much had to be done which required my signature ink on so many documents in the presence of a notary. So many questions about the remains. The final visit in the room to certify the body was the earthly remains of the women I had spent over half my life holding, loving, fighting, travelling, caring and laughing and enjoying life. It was surreal, almost out of body, choreographed by Steven King, so pale, so cold, so not there. St. James Infirmary playing…..
It was down by old Joe’s barroom, on the corner of the square
They were serving drinks as usual, and the usual crowd was there
On my left stood Big Joe McKennedy, and his eyes were bloodshot red
And he turned his face to the people, these were the very words he said
I was down to St. James infirmary, I saw my baby there
She was stretched out on a long white table,
So sweet, cool and so fair
Let her go, let her go, God bless her
Wherever she may be
She may search this whole wide world over
Never find a sweeter man as me
When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat
Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain
The gang’ll know I died standing pat
Let her go, let her go God bless her
Wherever she may be
She may search this wide world over
Never find a sweeter man as me
I want six crapshooters to be my pallbearers
Three pretty women to sing a song
Stick a jazz band on my hearse wagon
Raise hell as I stroll along
Let her go Let her go
God bless her
Wherever she may be
She may search this whole wide
World over
She’ll never find a sweeter
Man as me
A twist on the original – fascinating and an incredible voice.