The following was written by my friend, Greg Koenig, almost a year after his wife died and just before their youngest daughter was getting married. It is longer than my usual posts, but well worth the read.
Yeah, so here’s the transcript from a conversation God and I had recently. As with the earlier one, God gets a little chatty, but that was okay with me. Weird how these things seem to happen around milestones or upcoming big events, isn’t it?
Me: God? Me again.
God: So it is. What’s up?
Me: I don’t know; just a little thing, I suppose.
God: Hm. So I’m listening.
Me: It really starts with me talking to my best friend back in February. He’s really about the only person who can ask me how I’m doing and get the unabridged story.
God: And he asked you how you were doing. I was there. So…
Me: Well, I remember telling him the winter was getting long.
God: And cold?
Me: Argh! You already know where I’m going with this. Anyway, no, the winter wasn’t literally cold, so I didn’t see any need to throw that in.
God: Lonely, though.
Me: Yeah, okay, just stay a step ahead of me.
God: It’s how I roll. Sure, you were lonely. Most of the time, there was nobody in the house but you, and that was a constant reminder that a big part of you was missing–and it often felt as if there would be no end to that.
Me: Yeah.
God: There’s something more, which you may or may not have thought much about. You know the wife of your youth is here with me–safe, restored, the best she’s ever been. Huh, since Easter, all she does is dance. Anyway, you and I talked about that before, when you were wrestling with why she died–when you were just beginning to heal.
Me: Right; I know she’s with you. And somehow the dancing doesn’t surprise me.
God: Still, when a relationship between humans ends, that’s a death, too. And even if the end of the relationship is for the better, you humans will mourn that death. It’s no less real than the physical death of a loved one, plus you’re still there to lug it around with you, day after day after day. You’re your own reminder of the death of that relationship! You didn’t connect the dots at the time, but you were feeling it back then; you called it a wound.
Me: Whoa, yeah….
God: So anyway…. Long, lonely winter?
Me: Ha, yeah, well, you know my daughter Kate is getting married in a few weeks?
God: Oh?
Me: Stop. You know.
God: They’re a cute couple. I’m gonna bless ’em big.
Me: I know you are. Anyway, this cool, eerie little coincidence happened. Kate came to me one day and wondered out loud if it’d be okay to use the same song for her father-daughter dance that her sister Lexi used at her wedding.
God: Which is … ?
Me: Well, my kids know it’s kind of a signature song for me–and it’s the first song I ever learned to perform really well.
God: Huh, yeah, when you were like 13. George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun.” Catchy; it’s one of the better songs that’s not about me.
Me: Wow. You know.
God: You play it all. the. time. (You weren’t very good at first, but you got better.) Anyway–six hundred ninety-two times over the last 45 years! And counting!
Me: Hey, it’s how I roll. Well, when I first heard it back in 1971, on George’s Concert for Bangladesh album, I just knew I had to learn it. The simple but evocative lyrics, the ascending and descending acoustic riffs–so sweet … so sweet.
God: And so what’s the big deal about that?
Me: Heh. Well, when Kate asked that, all the lyrics rushed back to me at once, and it was like seeing that first robin of spring and thinking at last that maybe things could get better. “It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter … the smile’s returning to the faces … I feel that ice is slowly melting … it seems like years since it’s been clear … Here comes the sun … and–”
God: “–It’s all right.” Mm, yeah. And so …?
Me: It begins to feel like maybe it could actually be all right.
God: So what are you going to do–season some old, close friendships, maybe make a couple new close friendships, finish that novel, learn some fancy new stuff on the guitar…?
Me: Ha, well, you never know.
God: No. I always know.
Me: Oh, yeah. Well–AND polish up my two-step. Can’t wait; can’t wait!
God: Mmhm; cool. But let me check something with you–you really think that that question from your daughter about that song, at that time, in that context, was just a coincidence.
Me: Whaaaaaaa? Well, er, … of … course … not …?
God: Ha–gotcha! Remember Who it is Who’s got your back. Stay humble.
Me: So, but, well … it’s all right? Really?
God: It will be. Just stick with me and hold on tight.
Me: Yeah.
Sun, sun, sun. Here it comes.
