Rubber Soul

It’s made of rubber – my soul that is. It must be to have been pushed and nearly broken so many times. Like a rubber ball left in the sun it has, at times, developed cracks and fissures. Its outer layer has developed a hardened shell and yet, it somehow manages to bounce back.

My song, yes…I said my song, is Michelle, sung by Paul McCartney, adapted by my daddy and sung to me. I don’t know what came first, the song or my nickname, K-Belle, but the words go together well.

K-Belle you’re swell, these are words that go together well…my K-Belle.

He sang it to me often. It was my song  – his profession of love to me, written by Paul and re-written to suit us. The song he sang to tell the world how much he loved me.

I love you, I love you, I love you! That’s all I want to say.

These were the only words he knew I’d understand when I was 4 then 5 then 6. What child could know what troubles a grown man holds in his own soul? How can a small child ever understand that her Daddy isn’t a God dressed in a state trooper uniform, the brim of his Stetson pulled low and casting shadows on his eyes. How can a child fathom that her Daddy is simply human?

I need to, I need to, I need to, I need to make you see… Oh, what you mean to me.

I missed him. I longed for him to come back and prove that he wasn’t just a human. I wanted the God. I didn’t want his flaws or his weaknesses. In my teens, though he is still living, I mourned him and, eventually, I stopped remembering. My memories of us grew foggy and distant as I accumulated years. I’m left with snapshots of moments made tangible by the music we listened to. Music pulls those memories from their dusty place, sometimes unexpectedly and like a punch in the stomach.

The Beatles are the soundtrack of my earliest years, when he was still with us. There really is barely a song that doesn’t remind me of him. But this song, this simple little song sung by Paul and adapted to suit us, is the one I love the most.

I want you, I want you, I want you. I think you know by now. I’ll get to you somehow. Until I do I’m telling you so you’ll understand.

Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble, Très bien ensemble.” Those are words that go together well.

I love you too, Dad. Happy Father’s Day!

Vote for me @ Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory