I can’t remember when exactly I got the original Broadway cast recording (OBCR) of Hamilton for Z, but it was shortly after it was released. Hamilton was still fresh and new and I probably heard it reviewed on NPR or some other such medium for the self important and socially aware granola eaters.
I got the soundtrack first and loved it. I figured this would be right up her alley, so I purchased a second copy and gave it to her at the following holiday. I can’t remember if it was for Christmas 2015 or Easter 2016. But whatever the case, she loved it too. We talked about the songs, about how much we didn’t know that we know now. We talked about what everybody else talked about when Hamilton first hit the scene.
We’d play it on our road trips. We’d turn the volume up and pretend we could follow along with the singing. We couldn’t. We hum along.
It’s been just over 4 years since she and I fell for Hamilton. Shortly after she passed, I tucked our copies away. It was a fun thing she and I shared and I ticked it up with all of the other things we shared. Hamilton, Gilmore Girls, Reading Lists, and other such sundries were put into an emotional box of things that just wouldn’t be the same without her.
This past week, Hamilton’s touring cast made a stop in Grand Rapids and I roped some of my cousins in and off we went.
I cried through a significant portion of the first act. Not the heaving sobs of a freshly broken life, but the emotional realization of what I was doing without her.
I was overwhelmed with the memories of our times together with Hamilton. I sat in my seat taking everything in and the weight of her loss filled my chest and my eyes started leaking and I resolved to enjoy this for us; for her and for me and for our times in the car headed up north or back when it was the three of us (Alex, Z, and me) with the sun warming up what we all assumed was a bright and happy future.
I’ve spent the last couple of days digesting my time with Hamilton and trying to arrange my thoughts about the subject in preparation for this blog. I sat down to spend some quality time with the internet and my homework and my thoughts about why I cry during concerts (see previous posts about Flogging Molly) and I fired up the internet to find out Kobe Bryant was killed today with his daughter.
I’ve never particularly felt an idolization toward him. He’s not necessarily one of my heroes, although an amazing positive public figure to be sure, but when I read the news about his accident I got super emotional.
An accident. A father killed. A daughter killed.
It strikes so close to home and I can’t shake it. Reading that news flooded me with fresh anguish. I re-read the news over and over. Accident. Father killed. Daughter killed.
I should have known what Hamilton was going to do to me. I should be prepared for the sudden tragedy that will take my breath away.
Everything is a minefield of danger spots that will make my chest tighten up.
Zero Stars. Do not recommend.