I Didn't Tell You Everything: After Beth and the Beatles

In my last blog post I didn't tell you everything.
Yes, my Scouser friend Beth brought me pure joy while dancing the jitterbug, in the Cavern, in Liverpool. And yes, I wept with tears of joy watching her.
But the story doesn't end there.
After a few more Beatles hits, ache crawled into my legs demanding a break. As I sat soaking up the music, my abdomen began to cramp and nausea crept up my throat. The music not at fault, it was then I was reminded I am a sick person.
Two profound emotions collided within me. First, I was struck by how the ability to touch, smell, and see are gifts still in my grasp. One of my ailments had leapt to the forefront of my mind. You may or may not know, in the past I have experienced temporary blindness and it could realistically become permanent due to retinopathy from the Diabetes.
Suddenly, my surroundings came alive: The curved rock ceiling, rough to my fingertips and every inch marked with signatures and messages of which I can only assume were of patrons; the red phone booth tucked in a corner, characteristic of this piece of the world; the window housing John Lennon sunglasses for sale, invoking want; the dark tunnel leading to the toilets, fear of behind the door overriding urgency; collective body heat I can only describe as close; the smell of sweat, beer and a hint of mint wafting throughout the dim light; Men and women, young and old swaying, even hopping to the beat. Alert sensations brought me an understanding of the Cavern I would've otherwise missed, had I only danced. Now I was fully living.
Conflicted, profound sadness also pierced, adding metaphorical pain to the physical. As I closed my eyes and silently begged the music to overtake the disease, the band changed its tune.
Wonderwall by Oasis filled every ear, soul
 and rock pore in the cave. Voices rose to the ceiling, the words known to all:


 There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how

I stood, grabbing onto Don, who was already rocking to the beat.

...maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me

As tears rolled down my face our eyes locked and we knew. We just knew. I don't know how else to say it.

He's already saved me. He saves me every day.

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, while I sobbed every ache and joy into his chest.

The Cavern is just a club, deep in the ground, with bored but professional tribute bands playing the Beatles night after night. I'm sure inebriation will have caused amnesia for many, just a meaningless night of partying.
But for me, the intense poignancy of my engagement with sense, there deep beneath the street, has carved its memory into my very being.

And all the roads that lead you there are winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
 
But I don't know how

Beth and the Beatles - The Perfect Union

Diabetes has wreaked havoc on my person as of late. From gastro paresis at its possible worst, to nerve pain disallowing sleep, to recurrent frozen shoulders, life has been challenging to say the least. I will not lie...I'm tired. Don is tired too, and I can't bear to watch this two way mirror. No matter who looks at who, what we see is fatigue. With that said, Don is an unwavering rock, faithfully holding me up through thick and thin.
He's not the only one keeping me going.
This past weekend, a group of our UK friends drove up to Liverpool to celebrate several birthdays. After a day of wandering the streets and getting a guided tour by Beth, a long-time-ago Liverpool local, we went for a lovely dinner and then found ourselves at the Cavern.

As I'm sure you know, Liverpool is the home of the Beatles, and the Cavern is where it all began. Typically I am not one to go clubbing, but this was one worth experiencing. As we wound down multiple flights of stone steps, I fought against my claustrophobia and tried to take it all in. Knowing this was the first club the Beatles ever played gave me the stronger push downward than the tightness in my chest pushing back to try to catapult me up and out.
A tribute band played the Beatles all night, taking requests. (As classic as the Beatles are, it's gotta get pretty old for them after months and months of this, no?)
After dancing to a Hard Day's Night, and I Wanna Hold Your Hand, plus many others, my legs needed a break. As I sat, I Saw Her Standing There started to pump through the speakers. At this point, something magical happened. My friend Beth caught the rhythm.
As she started dancing the Jitterbug, the first emotion to come over me was awe. I mean, she was really, really good. I haven't witnessed that much energy since watching Footloose a gazillion years ago.
Next came pure joy. The kind of joy that forced tears to stream down my face while my mouth was so turned upwards in a smile it hurt. I couldn't stop - crying or smiling. He adorable black dress swished and swirled as she twisted and turned and jumped and twirled. Next thing I knew, her husband Jason  joined her. This pushed me off the cliff of supreme happiness. To see the two of them in that moment privately together, for the whole world to see...it was just too much.
As I mentioned, life has been hard. But as I watched Beth I was thrust into 3:13 minutes of undiluted jubilation. It was freedom encountered through the infectious essence of free-spirited friends. Chained by medical tests, appointments, exhaustion and pain, it's a freedom that's been lacking within me as of late. That dance was a gift so pure, particularly since it was incognizant and unintentional, yet so open for the taking.
So with an indebted heart and tears in my eyes, I say thank you. Thanks to the Cavern for giving the Beatles a shot, to the Beatles for transforming the music scene on so many levels, and most importantly to Beth and Jason for dancing so spontaneously and uninhibited. Memories of that three minute break from life's hardships will carry me far.
Thanks again my dear friend Beth.
I Saw You Dancing There. ;)