The Bereavement Song

Love, death, and break-ups hit us like a ton of 90-year-old bricks, falling from a demolished brownstone apartment house. If we are strong enough and quick on our feet, we can survive the imminent danger of cascading bricks and debris by preemptively side-stepping the entire cataclysm with a hardened heart. However, hardening one’s heart carries its own harbingers of misery, such as isolation, loneliness, and eternal “singletude”, (Yes, I made that word up. You’ll get used to it.). Break-ups, divorces, and trial separations are easy compared to death. (There are plenty of songs and movies that soften that blow for you.) Death is Mighty Mike Tyson rushing you from across the ring, with nothing but “bad intentions” on his mind! Death sucks all of the oxygen out of your lungs; weakens your knees so you cannot stand; and makes you consume heavy volumes of tissue paper for your weeping eyes and runny nose. Yes, it hurts, but that is not all! The damage is irreversible and often recurring, like a horrible case of V.D.! (Never had it? “Lucky you!”)

Okay! Let us explore solutions instead of the obvious inherent issues. When Uncle Ray died, (No, you do not know him.), my mother and I had a “did-you-hear-that” moment at the funeral. We clearly heard his familiar voice say, “Everything is going to be alright.” This was an “Uncle-Rayism” that we always heard him say. We looked at each other and whispered, “Did you hear that”, in unison. Uncle Ray was a powerful, intelligent, scholarly alcoholic, who was also blind, but extremely talented in playing musical instruments and writing intense poetry. (You could feel every word he wrote! No pun intended.) Unfortunately for Uncle Ray, he was neither strong enough nor hard-hearted enough to withstand the deafening blow of unrequited love syndrome. Not that the woman he loved did not reciprocate his loving approaches, she did. However, a higher authority called “parents” ended his bid for eternal bliss. Thus the fatal solution of alcoholism and despair consumed this mental giant like a “Katrina-esque” world-killer. He was shattered beyond repair, despite our family’s best efforts. Uncle Ray perished in his early thirties, leaving his biggest fan, me, behind. I dealt with my pain by drowning myself by recording harmonica music and writing sad songs. (Uncle Ray taught me how to play the harmonica.)

When my grandmother died, I was nowhere near home. In fact, I was in my recording studio when I got the fateful call. I instantly stopped working on the jingle I was tasked with, and miraculously created The Bereavement Song, in minutes. (See link below.) I was instantaneously cured of the sadness of her loss and wanted to share the cure with my family. Now that you, the reader, are part of my extended blog family, I am compelled to share this musical cure with you. In addition, I am granting my blog family the express permission to use this song at any family gathering to heal the hearts of all in attendance. (This excludes commercial rights, of course.) As for the written song/poem, you may print it on funeral programs and share it with the family and freely change “Mother” to any two-syllable familial title. (Again, this excludes commercial rights.) Let me know how well (or poorly), The Bereavement Song was received by all. “Stay Powerful, But Don’t Harden Your Heart” (No, that is not a Country-Western song.)

In Loving Memory of Emma Lou Bruster

JUST ONE MORE TIME

(The Bereavement Song)

Nobody lives forever. Everyone has their time.

Whether for worse or better, it always seems like a crime.

Time has stolen you away before we could say, “Goodbye”.

Though we’ll meet again someday, I can’t keep from crying.

Mother we’ll miss you. You were one of a kind.

I wish I could kiss you just one more time.

I wish I had said, “I love you.”

Just one more time.

Now you can rest in peace again, just like before you were born.

There’ll be no more sorrow; no more pain, except for those who will mourn.

Mother we love you. ‘Cause you’re one of a kind.

I wish I had hugged you just one more time.

I wish I had said, “I love you”, just one more time.

 

 

https://mega.nz/file/QwU1DJhK#hfYdRjUlTItwJPJqjI3q28lEPGe3GVe-hsnbALRx6a4