Tears of the Whippoorwill

Tears of the Whippoorwill

Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry

Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry

Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.

I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.

Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.

Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.

And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.

I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.

I’m so lonesome, I could…die