Thursday, October 04, 2007

Guardrail

Nobody needs to tell me how amazing you were
I watched you fight and I watched you stand down
And I wonder which one took more guts

I wish I had your strength
I wish I had your brain
If only I had half of your energy

But I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway
To hold the guardrail in my hands
And I wonder what’s gonna happen next

We gather and we clutch the pieces of who you were
I wear your earrings, I walk around in your clothes
And I stare at your photo and wonder where that better place is
That everyone keeps talking about

And I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway
To hold the guardrail in my hands
And I need someone to tell me
What part of the equation I got wrong
And I wish someone would tell me
If I am doing this right now
Because I don’t know how to grieve
And right now I’m too tired to try

October 4th, 12:15 PM has carved its way into my brain
12:14 and 12:15 are radically different
No matter how hard I try
12:16 will never be like 12:14

It used to be I could tell you exactly how long it’s been
At any given moment right down to the minute
Obsessed I calculated over and over
Please don’t leave me alone with my thoughts too long

Because I’m scared, I’m sick and I’m starving
I pulled over on the highway
To hold the guardrail in my hands
And I need someone to tell me
What part of the equation I got wrong
And I wish someone would tell me
If I am doing this right now
Because I don’t know how to grieve
And right now I’m too tired to try

Nobody needs to tell me how amazing you were
I watched you fight and I watched you stand down
And I wonder which one took more guts

I started to write this the night you died, and kept working on it for over a year after. It's an angry song with dissonant, incomplete sounding chords. Every time I sing it, I feel ripped open and raw. But I still sing it.

It was 6 years ago today that I said my last words to you, “Thank you for everything. I love you.” I have missed you every single day since then. Some days I laugh at the way you didn’t understand that the word “junk” didn’t have a plural and you’d say “I have to put away these junks.” Some days I cry when I remember how your hair had fallen out to the point where you had to wear a wig. Most days I marvel at the life you led, and want to be like you—indestructible, unstoppable, brilliant, tough. I will tell your grandchildren all about you, I promise.

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2 Comments:

Blogger Gypsy said...

Beej, that song is incredible. {hugs}

October 8, 2007 at 8:15 AM  
Blogger Jen said...

It never hurts less, does it? **hugs**

October 9, 2007 at 9:32 PM  

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