This morning I left home and cheated with the random, since I have to choose the song you wanted to start the day. Did not listen much to 'Tears In The Typing Pool' . Yesterday afternoon, like many, I knew Trish Keenan had been hospitalized because of pneumonia and its had been complicated in recent hours. The words "grave", "privacy", "family" and "respect" the press release, bleak black and white, undesirable puzzle, left me a strange feeling of unease and tension.
Trish wrote this song after watching his father struggle with a terminal illness for a long time and know that he was leaving. Sounds like a lovely phrase, "Tears in the typing pool." "Letters sigh, the ink is still drying / I told the truth and now I sigh / Turning the page for you and me ".
over fifteen years ago I have not had to face the death of someone close. It's a question of balance, when I was ten years he was eleven, I was three over a period of about nine months, my grandfather and uncle, two weeks apart in December, my maternal grandmother, the grandmother of the village, following September. That was the last time. I do not remember much, only that my grandfather was crying near the casket and I went for a hug. I was so nervous at his back, his cheek on his shoulder relaxed, I got a smile. I felt bad about that smile then I ashamed to have reacted well and I can not explain. But the truth is that everything in itself seemed like something was not happening in our lives, the end of the day they admitted in late August and a complication in the kidney took two weeks.
Today was not expecting to come home and small holders to meet me yesterday confirmed that no one wanted to evaluate as a possibility. Trish has died. I've had a hiccup sickening thud and then a shiver travel loop me head. I shed a few tears, short haul. He returned to play this song. The elegy she wrote and now I sing it in my thoughts. Perhaps the best memory that we have today Trish: sensitivity contained in this moment of peace that stands out in contrast saturation Tender Buttons to be precisely the opposite, the elegance with which lengthens vowels melody. I imagine her legs dangling from an overpass, watching the land does not change and that mentioned in the letter.
The news of a death received with surprise and horror, because I believe in milliseconds we imagine the deceased at the time of absolute solitude, terrifying, in which everything will cease to exist.
Tears on the keyboard I spilled today.
0 comments:
Post a Comment