I now know what it is like to find the iPod of a loved one who is gone. We listened to his iPod on car trips, music playing the the background as we talked of life and laughed, and made plans for the future. He told me about his favorite songs, about the artists, the stories of how the songs were written and what they meant to him.
And sometimes we did not talk at all. Sometimes we just listened, each in our own little part of the world, yet together in our own shared space.
Music is such a personal thing, what you have on a tiny machine. How you cataorize them, which are your favorites, which song off of which albums, which covers of which sings. A snapshot of a person. Right there, on their own playlist, the soundtrack of their life. All the theme songs, sad songs, happy songs, work out songs, driving songs, relaxing songs, break up songs, make love songs….all of it, right there waiting with one word: Play.
And as I lay there in a bubble bath and listened, I cried. It was real, he was real, the love I felt was real, the trust I had was real. Even if the man, the person, no longer exists on this earth. And it meant something.
And therein lies the comfort.