Storytime: Saying goodbye to Eric Clapton with a concert story of my own

Goodbye Eric Clapton,

I saw you in concert recently. Actually, I purchased a ticket months ago, paying more than I have for any concert ticket ever. I booked a hotel room and drove hours to get there. Then, I waited in a bar with total strangers until a shuttle came to pick us up and take us to hear you.

It was some night.

You, Eric Clapton, were number one on my husband’s concert bucket list. Randy gave up on seeing you years ago, thinking you might not tour again. And then Randy suddenly died, leaving me with this list that has your name at the top.

Randy introduced me to you when I was newly in love and he was newly home from Vietnam. I have to tell you, Eric Clapton, Randy was always the bigger fan. My husband loved the riffs and the guitar finger play that, in his mind, only you can do. He believed your guitar playing was full of anguish and heavy thinking while I just wanted to dance and sing along.

I did that at your concert.

That night, I sat alone at the bar waiting for the shuttle and realized I was not alone at all. The bar crowd was enthusiastic, the air was full of expectation, and I looked around and saw that most everyone there was just like me, reliving a time in their life. Soon, it became easy to chat it up with whoever wanted to chat it up. Seems everyone that night had a concert story about you, Eric Clapton.

You were the talk of the bar.

One couple flew in from New York, this was their fifth time to see you. I sat beside a man who just completed his last radiation treatment — you were his reward. There was a couple from Illinois, traveling the country going to concerts with tickets in the next few weeks for Van Halen and Aerosmith.

There was a table of rowdy couples from Nebraska who had rented an RV to get there, and then there was the silver-haired couple from Iowa. The wife confided that she was going to leave her husband when they got home; she just hadn’t told him yet. This would be their sixth time seeing you and she wanted him to have a nice night.

A night he would never forget.

As I sat in the noisy bar and watched the life around me, I knew that you, Eric Clapton, were the one thing we all had in common. All of us have been living with your music since we were someone else. We know your history, your journey, your tragedies and your triumphs because they are ours too. We know all the words to all your songs and remember the people and the times we shared them with.

Those are the days we can’t get back.

Everyone I asked had a story about you, Eric Clapton, and now I have one of my own. Your music was right on, the back-up singers were working it, and you looked pretty good in your rumpled suit jacket. I paid attention to your fingers on the strings and the look on your face when you went deep into a song. I even wiped my own tears during "Tears in Heaven."

I could see why you were Randy’s number one.

So, goodbye Eric Clapton, thank you for decades of music and memories, and a night of good people with good stories. Your songs are woven into my heart and always a part of the man I married. Now, each time I hear one, I will remember the first and last time I saw you, the night I scratched your name off that list.

I know that, in reality, our paths will probably not cross again. Life goes on, and according to you, I must be strong and carry on. So, goodbye, Eric Clapton.

Someone will know your name when they see you in heaven.

You can reach Lorry at lorrysstorys@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Columbia Daily Tribune: Storytime: Saying goodbye to Eric Clapton with a concert story