Songs for the Heart, Week of Christmas Edition, Number 2, “Standing on the Moon,” The Grateful Dead.
This song makes me happy. It honestly does. Every time I hear it, I think of somebody I’ve loved that is no longer with us.
This July, I heard this song on the way to the funeral of my friend, George Taylor.
This essay would annoy the hell out of him. He hated attention. I could tell him what an incredible human being he was in eleven different fashions, being subtle or direct, vague or forthcoming, offering gratitude and appreciation for a thousand different things, and he would brush it all aside.
“You’re so full of shit,” was a consistent rejoinder to any praise, a daily sidebar of any conversation we had, regardless of the content of our discussion.
And that comment always made me laugh. Not just because it was accurate-my own children have echoed that sentiment regularly throughout their lives- but because he could deliver that line in any context. Over coffee, driving down the street, eating dinner, comparing notes over the box scores, it didn’t matter. Some people just have a gift, I guess.
When I separated and eventually divorced from my wife of thirty years, Geoge let me move in with him. He was by himself, retired, and said he could use the company.
I lived with the man for six years. Six. Years. Think about that. We saw one another only in the morning and at night. We were in the same fantasy baseball league, so we had an endless stream of complaints we would lob back and forth between us.
He walked me through the most difficult time in my life without judgement. He offered counsel and perspective when I needed it most. He was always supportive, no matter how full of shit he thought I was.
I’ve never had a friend quite like him. We spoke nearly every day for years. He was the best man at my wedding. I miss him terribly.
On the day of his funeral, I got into my car and just sat. I didn’t move. I debated whether I should go. I just don’t like funerals, mostly because there are all those nice things that get said about the dead person and they miss it by just a couple of days. Frustrating.
Anyway, I’m sitting in my driveway and I decide I’m going, so I get on the freeway.
As soon as I turn on the radio the first chords of this song came streaming through, as if it was queued up by George himself, just waiting for my ears to open as it came through the speakers.
When I heard the beginning of these lyrics, I was on the freeway, and I had to pull over:
“Standing on the moon
With nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I’d rather be with you.”
Thanks, my old friend. I’d rather be with you, too.
By entrusting us with your feelings, we help you take steps that you see necessary to begin and put forth the energy to make the needed change.
Now notice something: Trust in a coach, mentor, or guide helps you see what's in front of you. We see a Coach for Your Heart a little like an emotional Sherpa, somebody that helps you climb your mountain by pointing out where to best step along the path.
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