Although I’m not particularly moved by country music, the first time I heard the song “One More Day” by Del Rio on the radio I had to pull the car over to the side of the road.
Tears fell uncontrollably down my face. Even if someone would’ve made an attempt, I was inconsolable. In November 1995, my best friend of twenty-three years died from complications of the AIDS virus. Once the song began, my thoughts immediately turned to memories of being with Johnny. The chorus of the song plays over and over in my mind. “One more day/one more time/one more sunset/Maybe I’d be satisfied/But then again I know what it would do/Leave me wishing still for one more day with you.” With a constant smile on his face, I’m not certain there’s another human being on earth that I’ve ever enjoyed their company as much as I did with Johnny. It didn’t matter if I was feeling sad, he could always make me laugh. The song reminds me of how strong I have to be now because the world just isn’t the place it used to be when he was around. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have just one more day with him. In a little over two minutes, this song conjures up all the incredible memories I shared with Johnny when he was alive. While together we were like Lucy & Desi or Laurel & Hardy. I’m convinced we fed off one another’s humor which stepped our craziness up to a higher level. We had so much fun together. But my favorite memory of Johnny always brings smiles through my tears. He worked at a funeral home where I had also been previously employed. Since we were both in the business, we had numerous conversations concerning death. One night prior to going to a Mardi Gras ball, we decided to take some pictures in the casket room of the funeral home. Naturally no one else was around except for a few close friends. So out of curiosity Johnny and I both climbed into caskets while our friends took pictures of us. We were dressed to the nines and here we were lying in caskets with our eyes closed and our hands clasped at our waist. We laughed until we cried. Although taking pictures in caskets could seem morbid, we were alive then. Isn’t that what life’s about? Making the most of tiny moments? I now realize that laughing and enjoying the little moments in life are of the utmost importance because Johnny taught me that lesson. Crawling in and out of those caskets is one of the best memories I have of the two of us Besides, it was all in good fun.
On December 3, 2007 I lost another best friend-my mama. Rose was a great woman. She was loving, nurturing and blessed with an incredible sense of humor. She loved people and adored gambling. And she’d talk to anyone, anywhere about anything. Although the doctors say she died of lung cancer, I know in my heart she died of grief. She was an ambassador for the city of New Orleans-the city she loved, but Hurricane Katrina took care of that. The day after my mama died, I turned on the car radio and lo and behold-“One More Day” was playing. Now the song has even more meaning for me. In fact, I’ve never been able to listen to the song without crying. It’s automatic. And although the song is painful, I could listen to it repeatedly because it reminds me I’m still here. There is an acute awareness accompanied with death and pain and the author of “One More Day” obviously experienced it. Whenever I hear the song, a reel of memories runs through my mind that I shared with both Johnny and my mama and brings me hope that one day I’ll see them again. I remember how they laughed and know it’s time for me to pass on the laughter.
