I thought this day would bring great grief. Last night, partially sleepless, was spent up staring, imagining, attempting to project how I'd feel once it was finally gone. I was actually afraid to see the moment come, not really knowing how I'd respond. The thought occurred to me that I've spent the past 10 years gnawing my entrapped psyche free from the jaws of this hard task-master - this un-approving god. Trapped somehow, in my belief that the part of me most valuable, was defined by this god. I've spent over 30 years of my life struggling at this altar - struggling to be someone I wasn't. I've offered tears, sweat, hours, years - - life - -years of life - - at the altar of this god. And now it is gone. My dining room is now occupied by a dining table - instead of being dominated by a grand piano. I am no longer a musician. I no longer need to try to be a pianist. I no longer need to continually feel that I am only half as good as I should be. And the waves of grief are not over the loss of music in my life - they are over the loss of life as the cost of music - - the loss of life at the altar of pride which demanded I perfect the turn of a phrase - to agonize over nuances so subtle, most ears would not even notice. Wise ears would not even care. I exchanged much life for that brief moment of sound, which once created, immediately faded away into oblivion, leaving little but exhaustion behind.
But instead of grief, I think I feel relief. This fight has taken many years to end.