A Song for My Father…
Me and dad when I was only 6.
I had this dream last night that I was back home in Alabama. It didn’t really look like home, but somehow I knew it was. There were no walls, just infinite space surrounding the clutter I sat on – clothes and furniture and things strewn about.
My dad was there sitting and talking, but not to anyone in particular. His image was faded and reduced… It’s like it was his ghost refusing to leave this world.
I felt so sad as I looked at him, and so I pleaded with him:
“Dad you’ve left this life! You have to go on the next. You can’t stay here.”
But it was like he couldn’t hear me. He was just a ghost, stuck in some limbo space, talking incessantly like he was known to do… Even his voice sounded like an old recording… like just a shadow of his rich bass-baritone voice that I miss hearing so much.
Finally, he sat staring off – his translucent image quite still – with an almost remorseful expression on his face.
Then he faded away
“Passed away” – why do we use that term? It is because they “passed” from this life? Because at least in the English language, it’s like he’s in the “past” now…
Back in July, just a few days after I found out he was gone, I decided to capture my feelings – some of the most intense emotions I’ve ever experienced – into music. So I sat down at the piano, pressed record on my computer, and played those keys and wept.
Here is the song I recorded, raw and from the moment – an improvisational composition – flaws and all.