Why Does Bruce Make Me Cry?

I read the devastating headlines of the day and I feel angry and numb. Then I listen to Bruce sing “The Land of Hope and Dreams” and I cry.

I cry for the dreams that were lost the day Niels died. I cry for the daughter-in-law I’d never have to cook with and laugh with, for the grandchildren I’d never hold, for the pride and joy I’d never feel when Niels became partner in his CPA firm of choice. I cry for the moments I’d look over at him and know that he understood my emotions, that he was supporting me and cheering for me. The moments when he’d say “Mom, I’ve got you.” I cry because I won’t hear his belly laugh, see his smile, feel his bear hug.

I cry. Still I cry.

And I cry for the dreams that were lost the day Glen died. Really, those dreams were slowly and painfully fading over the years as one-by-one we took those dreams off our list. I cry for the months that we will never live together in Rome or Portugal or Hanoi, for the perfect cup of espresso we’d never search for and enjoy together. I cry for the concerts we won’t hear and the plays we won’t see. I cry for that twinkle in his eye that he’d get when we were plotting our future travels. I cry because I already miss his wisdom and just-right question when I’m trying to figure out what to do. I cry for the conversations we won’t have about our future; our golden years. And I even cry for the arguments I’ll miss…yes even the arguments.

I cry. Still I cry.

Because really, all of it is a loss. A loss of “hope and dreams”. And per usual, Bruce nails it.

And yet, I know that hope and dreams cannot be lost. Sidelined for a bit? Revised? Transformed? Modified? Maybe. But always…there must be hope and dreams…it’s what keeps me looking forward, moving forward…

I’ll find my way on “this train”, the train of hopes and dreams…

Thanks, Bruce. You’re still The Boss.