Ruby Tuesday

Tonight, I embraced something I had slammed the door on.

In the almost a year (it'll be a year in three days) since my father died, I haven't been able to listen to "Ruby Tuesday" by the Rolling Stones, it just brings me to tears and makes me nauseous. I've listened to it a few times. Some (most) by accident, but occasionally on purpose--either to be sad or as trying to force myself over some invisible barrier.

Every time I listened to it, I had the same nauseous, tearful reaction. I suddenly hated what had always been one of my favorite songs. Not favorite in the way "November Rain" is, but certainly the most special song, because it represented my relationship with my dad.

For those few people reading this who don't know the story, I'll explain. I was born on a Tuesday in July, making my birthstone the ruby. I was also born on Mick Jagger's birthday and my dad was a huge Rolling Stones fan. So, almost immediately, my dad christened me his 'little Ruby Tuesday'.

He had other nicknames for me. He never called me Michelle unless I was trouble. Neither of my parents did, not liking full names as a rule and not be able to agree on an appropriate short form (it was a Mickey vs. Shelley war, thankfully neither side won), so they just came up with nicknames for me.

My mom went the sappy route, Princess, Angel, Apple of her Eye, that sort of thing. My father, on the other hand, wasn't the mushy type, so he developed his own pet names for me.

They changed multiple times. Beansprout, Goose, Googlehead, to name a few, all came and went, and Chucklehead was the last he ever used. But being his 'Little Ruby Tuesday' was different, it was a pet name he only used on rare special occasions. It was very special.

The song was very special to us. We often listened to it together. We danced to it together, live, one of the highlights of my life. One of the most precious moments--even more precious now. We always said that it would be the song for the father/daughter dance when I got married.

So, naturally, after he died, the song became painful. It represented in my mind, everything I had lost. I was nobody's "little Ruby Tuesday" any more. We'd never share that father/daughter dance. So I began to hate the song that I had always loved.

Tonight, I realized that it was the wrong attitude to have, listening to the song and hating it for representing all that I lost. Instead, for the first time since he died, I listened to it and I thought of the good things.

The song will always be a link to my dad. To the wonderful memories that we shared. If I let myself, I can listen to it and remember the good times, remember how much I loved him and how much he loved me.

He's gone. Nothing's going to change that. Nothing's going to bring him back, no matter how much I might want to. But, the memories aren't gone. The connections to him, they're still with me. I can think about them and remember him. Memories aren't as good as the real thing, but they're still precious.

Ruby Tuesday can help me remember. I think it'll always hurt a lot, but I'd rather the think of the positive. I'd rather listen to the song and remember the wonderful, crazy person that my dad was.

Ruby Tuesday
By The Rolling Stones

She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone
While the sun is bright or
In the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and go
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you?
When you change with ev'ry new day
Still I'm gonna miss you

Don't question why she needs to be so free
She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained to a
Life where nothing's gained and nothing's lost at such a cost
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you?
When you change...

"There's no time to lose"
I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind
Ain't life unkind?
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you?
When you change...

What I realized tonight is that I'll always be my father's "little Ruby Tuesday" even if he's not here to tell me so.