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2003-04-12 : 9:52 p.m.
Short of breath...
Written: 4-12-03 Time: 9:32 p.m.
Listening to: The Cure (Blood Flowers) Funny, When this album first came out... Nevertheless, it would be a matter of time... a short time... where this album would come together for me... ************************************************************************* I came home one day, after visiting Danny�s (G.) Mom... after he had just passed away... And I would lay on my bed, at a loss, just wanting comfort... but having no one or nothing, that would suffice. And so I put this album on... The Cure always does that for me... no matter what the occasion... And as always... it helped to propel my thoughts... guide them... settle them... because you see, without the words, to solidify, and help me focus...my thoughts will run a muck... And just churn and churn... over and over... faster and faster... Sometimes I literally feel as if I could gouge my own eyes out, just to relieve the pressure... It�s as if I'm going to go crazy... But the words and melodies... give me structure... and take away that subtle edge that always creeps up... Loneliness. And so, that evening I played the CD. And focused. And the song, �Where the birds always sing� played... �The world is neither fair nor unfair~ And with it came the voice of Danny's mom to mind... and her describing to me how he died... �Tenia lagrimas...� He was laying on the hospital bed... all of his family was there... and old friends who had made it in time. She told me, how Danny�s father, took her outside... And Danny's father, told her... that they had to say �something� to him... �...pero no queria...� She had decided that his strength to fight depended on it... and she would NOT say it. But he told her, it was time. He was in pain, and it was time. And in her tears she�d tell me... How they reentered the room, as everyone gave them room, and stepped outside. And they were at his side... when his she took his hand... and told him, �It�s okay...� She said... �It�s okay...� And she told me as he lay there motionless, in pain, under heavy -pain medicated- sedation... He cried... �...se le caian las lagrimas...� It�s okay... she�d tell him... �It�s okay to let go... it�s okay...� And a boy who lived only 21 years, succumbed to his leukemia... and stopped breathing shortly after. And the song continues for me... Today as I came home, I was told that my grandfather... whose voice keeps replaying in my head, like a tape recorder... Stop, Rewind, Stop, Rewind, Memorizing... to not forget. He, my grandfather, has been moved to the hospice... He had a very difficult time remembering his own daughter, my mother, when she arrived to be there for him... But now all his children are there... waiting. He has cancer... He�s been given a week. And my father can only repeat the same thing over, and over to me... �It�s better this way... he needs to rest... it�s been too much...� As if something has to be put to sleep... in order to �save� it (?). And all I can think... all I can feel... is the memory... the visions of Danny and what he looked like when he was going through Chemo... It�s burned in my skull and haunts me... And I remember begging to die instead.. Wanting to die instead... �It doesn�t mean there has to be a way of things~
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