Sunsets

We have the best view for sunsets at our house. We have a 40 foot deck across the back of our home, facing west. Though hot in the summer, it simply offers a wonderful panoramic view of our setting sun -- and glimpses of the Blue Ridge in the winter when the leaves have fallen from the trees that obscure our view the rest of the year. I can see the sunset from my kitchen sink and sometimes I'm just mesmerized by the beauty. David journaled our sunsets photographically. I'm not sure if he had any plans for all of those pictures, but he had hundreds of them -- perhaps a thousand.

I can't remember the details of the original request ... but shortly after David died, our loving neighbors got together to plan a sign for our street to honor him. A mosaic artist was commissioned to design the sign. The part I can't remember is whether they had already decided to portray a sunset or whether that was my suggestion based on David's love of sunsets. Whichever the answer, I provided about 20 images of David's most brilliant sunset photographs. We decided to stick with the deep pink and gold images. The sign should finally be installed within the next few weeks. I bet it's going to be beautiful.

Everyone loves sunsets. Just because David loved them and photographed them doesn't make him all that special. But he's dead, so that makes a difference. If you haven't lost anyone and gone through that whole "divination" thing, you don't know what I mean. When someone dies, people tend to remember them as much more wonderful than they actually were. Now some people are actually wonderful, of course -- like my mother, my husband, my father, my brother-in-law, grandparents (yeh, me, too) -- but the negative things get pushed to the background. No bad stuff is "openly" remembered. Divination. Having gone through bereavement programs, this is a no-no. We are supposed to remember ALL those things about our loved one -- good AND bad. Ok. Yes. But you know what? That really doesn't make any difference anymore. Sure, he was a messy coffee brewer. He spread his stuff out all over the dining room -- the first thing people saw when they entered our home was his unpacked suitcase or his stacks of stuff on our dining room table. He didn't help with dinner or the dishes ... Right now, none of that matters. Right NOW I'm remembering his passion for sunsets.

So ... when I was asked to provide an image of a sunset for the sign, I sort of panicked. David and I had separate computers. Sure, he sometimes emailed me sunset pictures, but I knew that he had a whole archive of them. I hadn't powered-up his notebook since before he died. I had no idea where he had saved those photos -- an external hard drive? a CD? or would it be a simple find? I also had to figure out how to maneuver through a different operating system and how to utilize his email without downloading 100's of emails that had accumulated since his death. I am somewhat resourceful ... I was able to locate his folder of sunset photos and used webmail to easily transmit them to myself. Score! I quickly shut-down his notebook and put it away. Too emotional for one day, really. I had chosen my favorites and transmitted them to the appropriate neighbors for a vote. This was a good day's effort for me back then! Time for a rest ...

Isn't a sunset a metaphor for the end of a life? I'm trying to grasp the common understanding of the "sunset" of someone's life. I think it's typically referring to old-age. That is something that David will never experience. He did write some about sunsets ... beautiful stuff ... in older songs.  In a song called Miracle Change, he wrote about what "people" say can't happen -- that we can change. He believed people COULD change. (I believe people can change, too.)

     Tonight, I’ll sit outside and watch the sunset
     As it slowly melts the corners of my soul
     Put a candle in the window, say a prayer for those I don’t know
     And ask the God of Peace to make us whole

These were songs written in the early days of his diagnosis ... he was very reflective. In Harvest Moon, he wrote:

     Today I noticed autumn had arrived
     a sunset of colors in the trees
     harvest moon over my shoulder
     just a hint of winter in the breeze

These are very lovely, melodic songs ... the kind of songs that made me fall in love with David. He sings with a sweet melancholy that draws you in. You probably have to hear them to understand. These sunsets ... and the sunsets that are happening right outside of my kitchen window ... make me miss my husband. I miss his voice. I miss his spirit. I miss his touch. I married him so that I would not be alone -- would not be cold ... and untouched. Sorry, but it's true. So sunsets make me kinda' blue.

But David was not a glass half empty kind of man. He was an optimist. He also wrote about sunRISES.

from Another Brand New Day,

     No one thought the sun would ever shine
     No one thought the breeze would ever blow
     That's why I take it as it comes
     Sunrise could change your life, you never know

 On "Day 3" following his recurrence, he wrote,

     So on this day and on as many as should come
     Always remember where you’re from
     Celebrate the sunrise and never let it go
     If you love someone, make sure you let them know.

... and this was from a very dark place.  He could kind of shame you with this stuff ... being so hopeful from the depths of his own despair.  I'm rarely up to see the sunrise, though. I'm a sunset person.

I can't help it. When I see a beautiful, notable sunset, I turn, involuntarily, to tell David to look! See the splendor! But he's no longer there. My kitchen is empty. Will I ever see a sunset without thinking of him? I wonder. And soon, every time I turn onto my street, I will see a breathtaking mosaic portraying plain old magnificence. The perpetual beauty of our world that keeps on repeating itself no matter what! A sign of hope -- of promise -- that life goes one and goes on with goodness and glory even in the midst of our sorrow -- of overcast, foggy, remorse-filled days. Sort of like that good old rainbow from days of 'yore. Hmmm.

The Sunrise
It was a cotton candy sunrise like I’d never seen before
Clouds of pink and blue were knocking at my door
So I went outside and said my good morning to the skies
The pink turned into orange right before my eyes
Then the sky light exploded like a firework display
I waited for the angels to announce the coming day
Just then the sun broke through like a prisoner from its cage
It turned into a spotlight as God took center stage
Then all the world fell silent ‘neath the technicolor sky
And I swear I saw a gleam in my Creator’s eye
He was smiling like he had something he could not wait to say
Then he said welcome to this brand new day ...

Oh, hell ... just listen to it.  It's captivating: 
http://www.davidmbailey.com/audio/DAVID_M_BAILEY-The_Sunrise.m3u