The joy and the sorrow
Today I came across an Instagram post from one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Sean Rowe, featuring his song "Razor of Love" (you can listen to and buy the song here). I love this song. No scratch that I LOVE this song. In happier times, my late husband and I would sing to it while we made dinner and the kids played in the other room. That marriage wasn't always happy, but that moment was. That song will always remind me of that time, but now, for me, it is dyed in sorrow because that moment is gone.
I was compelled to comment on the post and tell an absolute stranger that we used to sing his song in a not-so-far-away kitchen. I would want to know if my work were important to someone, so why not?.
He commented back. He loved that we did that. That moment still had the power to bring joy to him. Even though as the song played, I started to cry. But life is like that. Sorrow and joy are braided together. Old joys become new sorrows and the pain of the past can push you into a brighter, happier future.
The story of singing in the kitchen to that song is one I will tell my children. It will become a happy memory, a thing they can hold on to about their father. It will be a joy again. The seed that was planted in the kitchen years ago is still growing.
As writers, artists, musicians, we show both the joy and the pain, we play with emotions. We awaken happiness, and drown it in sorrow, only to raise it up into the light of joy once more. And it works. Because that is the rhythm of existence. It is what we know. We revel in the bliss and in our darkest hour, we search for a way back to the light. It makes a good story.
Our life is our story, but life isn't safe. Hearts break, spirits become wounded. Nothing is gained without risk. The balance is joy. And it is worth it.