There she was, just a-walkin’ down the street,

© 2024 D. Stewart McLeish, all rights reserved.

Title: There she was, just a-walkin’ down the street.

“There she was, just a-walkin’ down the street, singin’

Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.

Snappin’ her fingers and shufflin’ her feet, singin’

do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.

She looked good (Looked good)

She looked fine (Looked fine)

She looked good, she looked fine

And I nearly lost my mind. “ ***

True story. I was walking down a country lane murmuring to myself when Anne appeared, walking beside me. I nearly lost my mind (again). Anne had died four weeks ago.

She tenderly snuggled her hand into mine and gently swung our arms back and forth. Then she hummed our favourite song. The “Do Wah Diddy song” as we called it. I joined in.

We danced, I mean ‘shuffled’ down the road for a quarter of an hour.

Once finished, we laughed as we talked about times long past.

Anne and I met 15 years ago. We were at a rock concert headlined by Manfred Mann. The attraction was instantaneous. The ‘Do Wah’ song was an international hit and had become entrenched in our psyches.

Many years ago, I was a wannabe rock drummer, and my rhythm & blues band was taking off. At home, I practised my drumming incessantly. The main tune I used to hone my skills was the “Do Wah” song. I remember countless hours of drumming to that song, no doubt annoying family members who put up with the noise (music to me). Although there were also other bands, Manfred and his gang held me captive. I lived in England and our band played mostly at US Airforce bases. We had a great deal of fun. While we were playing the guitarist’s solos, our ‘front man’ used to dash out onto the dance floor and spray couples with ‘silly string’.

I hadn’t met Anne yet. My then current squeeze didn’t like me being in a rock band and eventually I had to give it up. Bad move. But I was in love – well, hindsight will say, “In lust.”

Twenty years later, as Anne and I strolled down the lane singing the song, I felt at peace for the first time since she drifted away. Anne had a nasty cancer and after 10 years of it, she had no fight left in her. One day, we were talking and, out of the blue, Anne says, “I’m leaving now.” Always the joker, I responded, “Where ya going?” She looked at me, eyes moist, and said, “To eternal rest.” With that, she exhaled her last breath and left me.

I sat there, dazed. After several minutes, I emitted a guttural scream of anguish. Then the tears started. Life without Anne was going to be horrendous.

The next two weeks were a blur of wading through the immediate process of dealing with the death of a loved one. The hardest part was enduring the sympathy of family members and friends. There was an endless stream of condolences. Every single one of them brought me back to the exact moment that Anne died. I re-lived that horror hundreds of times. I got to the point where I had to withdraw from society to deal with life without Anne. Staying at home was my new reality. I puttered around the house, keeping myself busy. Well, not exactly busy. I spent a great deal of time lying on our bed, trying to make sense of my new life. It didn’t actually feel new. It felt like I was lying around waiting for the grim reaper to claim my soul. In a way, He had already shown up and was draining the remaining vitality of living from the husk of my body.

One of my pre-occupations was going over the funeral, again and again. No expense spared. I had hired a funeral director to deal with the details. The result was a horse and carriage hearse leading the parade of mourners. It looked like something out of the eighteen century.

We started the procession at our house – mine now. The funeral director led the parade. He marched in front of the hearse and mourners, tapping his Grand Marshall’s cane, tap, tap, tapping away on the road surface, clearing a space for the procession to march through. Anne lay in the glass enclosure of the hearse. We saw her at rest, with a large coffin spray of lilies to go with her on the last journey. As always, she looked beautiful and serene. At the crematorium, set up as a church, we took turns in telling the mourners stories about our times with Anne. When it came to my turn, I froze and couldn’t utter a single word.

Yes. I was a mess.

As the coffin made its way down the conveyer belt into the cremation oven, there was a thunderous noise accompanied by the crack of a lightning bolt.

The first day I felt sane, I went for a walk. It took a great deal of effort to take the route Anne and I used before she left me. The sun was shining. A gentle breeze wafted down the road, bringing the fresh smell of spring to my senses. Everything was in sync.

Anne joined me.

We walked down the road singing “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.”

A few minutes later, I knew I was alone again. Anne had faded away to wherever she was.

Each day, for six days, I walked back to meet up with Anne. No luck.

Today, day seven, I went again. This time, my persistence paid off.

I was humming the Do Wah song, hoping that Anne would hear me and snuggle my hand again. I felt a sudden warmth in my palm and there she was, just a- walkin’ down the street with me, again.

We walked and walked, talked and talked. Life is good. Life is extremely good.

Ten minutes into our sublime time, at the edge of my mind, I heard a roaring noise behind me – a speeding car?

And then ... silence.

I heard Anne say to me, “We are together now, for eternity.”

I didn’t see that one coming.

*** “Do Wah Diddy” was written by Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich.