Among Wildflowers

It was stunning to lose David Bowie, and shocking to lose Prince, but somehow the death of Tom Petty just seems worse!  I guess, unlike the other two, Tom Petty never “reinvented himself.”  He was always “real.”  He could have been your buddy.  That angular, skinny kid with stick straight hair and overbite.  He was the kid down the street that played in a band with his brothers in their parent’s basement.  Not fashionable, but good.  Great.  One of the best. So it was more than stunning, more than shocking to hear that Tom Petty died on Sunday.

Tom Petty will always remind me of those lovely years of my young adulthood, and of the first years of my marriage, starting a family, singing along, road-trips and sunny days.  As I got older, I never out grew him, and he was always on my playlist.  When my oldest daughter was married, my husband and she danced the “father/daughter” dance to “Wildflowers.”

I am so sorry to have to remove Tom Petty from that big, unattainable bucket list I have.  And I know that is selfish, but I am feeling selfish and sad and nostalgic on this lovely fall day.  I will put on “Last Dance with Mary Jane,” and clean the house and sing along and I know I will feel better, Tom Petty always makes me feel better.

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