I am now as many years old as my father was when he died. A day at which I have stared from varying distances over the course of the past forty-two-plus years has now arrived. This lap around the sun, Dad’s last, is one he did not complete. One hundred sixty-three days into it his race ended. He died. For those keeping score at home, July 16, 2024 is one hundred sixty-four days from today. It is a Tuesday.
I had intended today to fill this space with my lamentations about this particular birthday. But then Adele Springsteen died. Bruce’s mom died on January 31st. She was ninety-eight. I care not how old a man you are when your mom dies. You cry until your eyes sting, your throat burns, and your nose runs on a continuous loop. You do so because in that moment you are again a little boy and you feel gutted by her loss and the knowledge you shall have no more time with her.
The death of Adele Springsteen made me think of Mom. June 3, 2024 shall mark seven years since Mom died. Today? Today marks the 80th month. My mother, much as Adele Springsteen was for Bruce, was the great hero of my life. Speaking of his mother, he said, “She believed that there was good faith, good heart, good hope in all citizens. She gave the world a lot more credit than perhaps it deserves, but that was her way.” He could have used those same words to describe Joanie K.
“The Wish”, which he wrote for his mom, was among the songs he performed during Springsteen on Broadway. There, he led into the song by telling a simply beautiful story about a favorite memory of his childhood, which was walking home with her from her job. It would be just the two of them, walking on Freehold’s streets, “And she’d be looking down at me with a look that for me, was like the grace of Mary. Made me understand for the first time, how good it feels, feel pride in somebody that you love, and who loves you back, ya know.”
Yes I do, Bruce. Yes I do.
-AK
