There is this theory that everything happens for a reason. Those who subscribe to this theory tend to use the phrase “it wasn’t meant to be” a lot – usually in a way that makes you want to hit them in the face – like when you are red-eyed-and-raw-nosed over your latest broken heart. Obviously, it wasn’t effing meant to be. Usually, I do not endorse this theory, but there is a part of me that really wants it to be true. Really.
It’s that part of me that will reflect on my past life experiences and seek THE REASON it happened. Sometimes, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched. Sometimes, you just gotta believe. Like Marilyn Monroe said:
I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.
Le Sigh. sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.
I’ve reflected on, reminisced about, analyzed scientifically, and let go of whatever reason there was that caused me to suffer through my Epic Heartbreak. I’m sure there’s a real reason, but I’ve tried to just let it go and accept that the purpose behind those 2 years boils down to: 1. Sexual liberation and 2. My Records.
Sexual liberation is a topic we’ll broach after we know each other a little better. This post is about my records.
My father had this awesomely impressive record collection. He was a true music junkie. I begged for him to give me his record collection. He said it would be mine when I graduated high school. I graduated with honors. He said he would give me his records when I graduated from college. I shook hands with the President of the United States as I claimed my diploma. He said I would only get the records over his dead body.
My father passed away on April 29, 2008.
I had never settled an estate and the responsibility of it weighed heavily on my 23 year old shoulders. It was overwhelming, and I tend to deal with overwhelming by “dumping to simplify.” I was only going to take as many of my father’s records that I could carry: pretty much the Beatles, the Boss, Bob Dylan and the Monkees. My xLove sat next to me in my father’s closet and convinced me to take all of them, including “Frampton Comes Alive,” which would have never made the cut otherwise.
Today, in hindsight, I’m happy to have all of my father’s records. Music was something special for him – something that could speak to him always, and he passed that on to me – along with broad shoulders and a tendency to be hardheaded, opinionated, and passionate….and always right.
There will be days when I sit back and listen and reflect on the music, the man, my legacy. I expect that there is much for me to learn about myself through Spinning My Father’s Records.