Every time it rains, you're here in my head

iPods are dangerous things. You hit shuffle, and all of a sudden you're listening to a song you haven't heard in years, transported back in time. The music I buy and listen to now, I think, is really good. But it's not evocative for me in the same way that, say, listening to "The Killing Moon" by the Echo and the Bunnymen is. All of a sudden, I'm back in high school, with my sister and her boyfriend, driving to school in his Camaro. Or Pavement's "Here"--living on my own in NYC, working hard and getting paid very little, trying to figure out where my life was going.

Today, on the train, Kate Bush's "Cloudbusting" (The Hounds Of Love) came on. College. NYC. Circa 1989. Living in a dorm up on 116th and Broadway, staying up till all hours listening to music I'd never heard before with people who were, quite frankly, thrilling. Now, the average person's college experience doesn't usually scream KATE BUSH! But, I don't know...it just reminds me of that time.

The night before I left for school, I found out my father was very sick. He went from being what we knew to be healthy that morning and by night, the prognosis was grim. We spent the entire day in a hospital on the Upper East Side and then left him there, went home and I packed for school. What else was I supposed to do? I didn't know.

I knew nothing would ever be the same again. It's weird how you can look back at the briefest moment in time and pinpoint the exact spot where your life changed. Where you lost your footing for just a  millisecond, only to regain it in unfamiliar territory.

The next morning, in this new, hyper-reality, my mother and brother brought me to my dorm. When we got there we realized we'd left my luggage at home. I watched as other kids' parents dropped them off, teary-eyed, wistful, full of the future. And across town, my father sat in a hospital room alone.

That year, I divided my time between school, work (a steady babysitting gig) and visits to my dying father. Although I didn't know he was dying at the time. I knew it didn't look good, but I had always secretly believed he'd pull through. Even as doctors told us there was no other way out. But how do you face each day knowing that death is imminent? How do you stay strong for your loved one? It's simple: denial. You act as though you'll be the ones to beat it. You'll be the one who succeeds. You have to, because unhappy endings in your life had never occurred to you before this.

I carried my walkman with me wherever I went. Music articulated what I was feeling in a way I couldn't. I don't know when I first heard the Peter Gabriel song, "Don't Give Up," but it was during that time. It startled me in its accuracy of what I thought my father was going through.

...no fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
but no one wants you when you lose

don't give up
'cos you have friends
don't give up
you're not beaten yet
don't give up
i know you can make it good

though i saw it all around
never thought that i could be affected
thought that we'd be the last to go
it is so strange the way things turn...

don't give up
you still have us
don't give up
we don't need much of anything
don't give up
'cause somewhere there's a place
where we belong

rest your head
you worry too much
it's gonna be alright when times get rough
you can fall back on us
don't give up
please don't give up

 
And so it goes. I imagined the Peter Gabriel verses were from my father's point of view, and when Kate Bush sang, she sang what I was thinking. And her voice was so empathetic, so kind. So pleading. Don't give up. It broke my heart.

When "Cloudbusting" came up on my iPod today, I was left reeling, sitting there on the subway. Taken back to that year, but very much in the present. Just wanting to get home to my baby. Thinking about my father, who died fifteen years ago yesterday.

And every time it rains
you're here in my head
Like the sun coming out
Like your sun's coming out
I just know that something good is gonna happen
I don't know when
But just saying it could even make it happen

I nearly missed my stop. I had to make one of those mad dashes you see in the movies. And when I came up into the outside, the day that began wet and windy had turned sunny. I felt the slightest hint of warmth in the air. I could smell Spring, just struggling to burst through the atmosphere. I climbed the steps to my apartment, where my son was waiting with the biggest smile on his face, just for me.

Comments

[Anna H.]

Oh, there are no words. So lovely that your son was there for you yesterday of all days.

xxoo

[Mr Fits]

You shake me. You dazzle me. Another incredible, and moving, piece of selfless writing.

XOXO
T.

[Jo]

Beautifully written as ever. And 'Hounds of Love'? One of my all time faves. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with god...
The times that line has gone through my head.
Looks to me like you've been blessed with some special men in your life. Cool.

[Dana]

Beautiful words. Thank you for sharing.

[Amy/grrlTravels]

Well, you made me cry. That was beautiful. Because I've just been there in that denial, trying to believe that my mom would be the one who beat the cancer that no one ever beats. I asked my therapist, "What do you do? How do you help someone who is dying?" "There is no way to help. There is nothing to do. Just be there to listen. Just be there." It sounds like you were there, and that was good. So sorry for your loss, at such a critical time in your life.

[John]

I just lost a close family member this year, and the situation and feelings you describe are eerily familiar. In our time, popular music is like Proust's madeleine (although an iPod is not quite as romantic an image).

Hey, I lived in a dorm on 116th and Broadway. Gone by 1987 though. I still remember my first floor window with bars, choking on bus fumes and hearing the subway doors closing through the sidewalk grate in my sleep. Ah, those were the days...

[Brooklyn Mama]

This post is so moving - I so relate to the power of music to soften the harsh edges of sorrow. And oh, yes, the power of Kate Bush to take a person back in time. I know that phenomenon very well.

[Brooklyn Mama]

By the way, thanks for the music suggestions!