MORNING COFFEE 38 - black widow gold

by Susan Weber

We were seventeen years into our marriage when I recorded my song about a lone creature with a regrettable name who is touched by love. As I labored in the studio with Black Widow Gold, the cicadas were out in full force. Their scheduled appearance that year rivaled the commotion of the past generation that had danced and droned at our garden wedding.

Another cycle of cicadas has come and gone since I made the recording. During most of this time, as in the first half of our marriage, we happily ignored the death-do-us-part line tucked inside our vows. Now in my widowhood, I’m drawn again to the enigmatic Black Widow Gold.

My bereavement counselor startled me this week by observing that grief is a space in which to tend and nurture our marriage, not to abandon it as I turn to the task of solo living. I know that my husband will always be part of me, but how am I to care for someone I have lost? As I listen to the uncanny lyrics of this decades-old song, I’m moved by the dance, the warmth, the rhythm of our enduring filigree of virtue. How strange to feel him now through a song that was born in the carefree days of our marriage. I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but here it is in certain terms, Black Widow Gold.

(I'd thought to post the lyrics only, but why give you half a song?)

Photo by Judy Gallagher CC BY 2.0