For most of my adult life I’ve dreamed of seeing Eason live in concert, and on my birthday this year, that wish was fulfilled. A few of my friends said they were concerned the concert “couldn’t possibly live up to the hype I had created for myself”, and that they worried my expectations would be crushed.
In short: they were not. And I’m going to try, really try, to put into words how that night went for me, but I am pretty sure that whatever I say is going to sound like goofy sappy mush. Because feelings, yo.
I’d fully-intended to document for myself the 3-hour concert, to take photos of Eason on stage, but as we waited outside the arena we learned that our Canon 7D was most definitely not welcome. So…no photos. OK. Only half-crushed.
When the lights went down, I lost the impulse to document. I handed my phone to my husband, not so that I wouldn’t be compelled by its bewitching electronic powers to use it, but because it has a better camera than his phone. I realized that this is the first, maybe not the last, but it COULD be the only time I see Eason live in concert. This year has taught me that nothing can be taken for granted. I must assume that this is it, and appreciate that to the fullest.
The lights came up like a wall of beams, and in the middle he stood, spotlit in gold. First song began, 今天只做一件事 (Only Thinking Of One Thing Today), as predicted by the HK setlist, and I like it, a lot, but I was completely unprepared for the emotions that washed over me. I couldn’t stop the tears, although I fought them at first, because I couldn’t see all that well through a teary haze. But this…this was it. My 一件事.
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And another thing that may be of note. All of my hurt and my disappointment…it evaporated. My rational mind says, honey, he does this for a living, there’s no “message” for you here.
But there was. Kind of. He made an effort to speak in English. He sang and spoke to the audience in English, Mandarin and Cantonese, and though he said at the beginning of the concert that he’d prefer to speak English in an English-speaking country, he’d go with the language that the crowd wanted. Toward the end of the concert, though, he teased the crowd about making him speak all 3 when they all understand English. (Thank you).
He sang songs I know, songs I love. My history with his music, embedded in my heart, was still there underneath the hurt, and still, I love him. He still sounds like the sweet, kind person you’d love to have a beer with. The buddy you’d call to when you need a friend. The construct I fell in love with. So the hurt mattered no longer, and I had only the sound of his amazing voice and the particular orbit of fate that put me with Eason in the same geographic location for the first, and perhaps only time. I teared up intermittently, and even 9 days later, if I think about it too much, those feelings surface and I tear up again. It meant that much to me. I have some surreptitious shots taken of me at the concert by @puresky, surreptitious recordings of me singing along in my out-of-tune sort of way, but I cannot remember except in bits and pieces the way the concert went because I spent a great deal of time in my inescapable little oxytocin high.
I cannot express to @puresky how much this meant to me, though with all the crying and carrying-on, I imagine he knows. He’s the least-selfish, least-jealous person I’ve ever met. He set everything up. With the chaos in my work life and the toll that took on my health, and the teeth and their related (still ongoing) issues, and his own secret troubles and irritations, everything, he made every arrangement needed to get us there.
It touches me hear him now listen to Eason’s music when I’m not around, because I love him, and I love that music. Sometimes I feel like (irrationally) I’m the only Eason fan in the world. At least I’m the only one I know, the only one I can talk to about his music. Only I have my particular history with this music that means so much to me, but now at least a part of it, a HUGE part of it, I share with @puresky. And that means a lot to me.