In the past eight to ten months, I’ve done a lot of driving and listening to music -- 2,500 miles just since February 12. Most of the music I’ve listened to is Travis Tritt’s as Greg thoroughly enjoyed Travis’s music. I have interspersed this with a variety of other music -- from Clint Black to Waylon to soundtracks from Forrest Gump to Ghostbusters.
Invariably, there will be at least one song, no matter the genre nor singer, that brings me to tears with memories of Greg. Maybe because he sang the song frequently. Maybe because he particularly liked the instrumentals in one part of the song. Maybe because he didn’t like the song. With songs that remind me intensely of Greg, I find myself changing the lyrics to make the song about Greg.
“Honky-tonk angel . . .” becomes “Honky-tonk redneck . . . Greg, warm and strong, that’s who I’m longing for.” Every “you” in a heartsick song is changed to “Greg.” “She’s going home with me” morphs into “I’m going home with Greg.”
Does this help the grief? Sometimes. Sometimes the unrelenting grief is already there. Sometimes it waltzes in with the song. Sometimes . . . sometimes I smile at the memory of Greg complaining about my off-key singing.
Some songs I have rewritten nearly the entire song to reflect my life with Greg, the song resonates so strongly with my emotions. Others, I just sing along, changing the lyrics so they are about Greg.
One song, however, needs no rewriting . . . George Strait’s “A Fire I Can’t Put Out.”
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