NeedToWrite Posted October 26, 2005 Report Share Posted October 26, 2005 The Day The Music DiedPart 1 of ...Music has always been a part of me. It is in my soul, so to speak. From as far back as I can remember I have been around it. My father was a musician who played the trumpet and saxophone. My mother played the piano. We were the kind of family that when we got together you could be sure a guitar would come out, then another, then maybe the sax, the piano, or any other instrument around at the time and we would play. We would sing. We would rejoice.I have only ever truly been in love twice. I have found that the very music that runs through my veins would inevitably follow me wherever I went. When I was happy I would write happy songs, when sad, of course sad songs. When I found myself feeling funny or silly you could be sure a funny or silly song could be laid down and shared with those close to me. When I was in love then by all means as you could well imagine I would be pouring out some sappy, maybe tender love song, ballad. I have been writing songs from the time I was 9 years old. You may even have heard a few of them. In fact, I am sure most of you have heard at least one of them. The first time I was ever truly in love when I was 23 years old. I had met up with one of those rare people that when you first see them, exchange wondering glances, you know you are meant to be together. Her name was Lori, she was beautiful and gentle, and we were both going to school. It wasn’t long before we were dating, before we had moved in together, and before we were starting out on a course of planning our life as one. From the first week I met her I began writing the music that she stirred in me. Sometimes when she would come home from a late evening class I would surprise her with some new song I had just finished. Everywhere I went and everything I saw inspired me to write. The music played on.As relationships sometimes have their troubles, so did ours. After being and living together for 3 years we had had a falling out. Lori had moved in with a friend to sort some things out in her personal life. She hadn’t had much experience with relationships before we had met, and I suspected she needed some space to be sure our union was meant for her, was meant for us. After 3 months of being separated we realized that we truly did love each other. We also realized we needed to be together and nothing was going to stop us. She explained to me about experimenting when we were apart, being with a couple of different men. I didn’t care. I told her that I had had a brief affair during that time, and likewise, she didn’t care. We were both just happy to be back together and now realized that there wasn’t really anyone or anything else out there for us. We believed we could weather any storm. I played some of the sad songs I had written for her when she was away and we both hugged and we cried. And the music played on.About 3 months after that our phone rang one day. I picked it up and was surprised to hear the voice on the other end. It was from the girl whom I had the affair with when Lori and I were apart, and she asked if we could meet later that night to talk. I knew right then what the call was about. I had known this woman for a few years already and I also knew she understood that Lori and I were together, that nothing she could say or do would change that. We were always physically attracted, and that is where it stopped for me. Her feelings for me ran deeper, but yet she understood and respected where I was at with things. I knew it could only be one thing, and I wasn’t wrong.I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t bring myself to telling her. Things were going so well for Lori and I and now there was this secret. She would talk to me in the following months about one day having children and all the wonderful things we would do, while the knot in my stomach began to grow and ache. How do you tell someone who dreams about having your child that someone is already in the process of doing so? I wanted to tell her what was going on, just get it off my chest, but I was afraid of losing her. I started drinking heavily and it soon became obvious to her and to those around me that something was seriously wrong. Finally one day as she was again talking, planning out how we would make a perfect family, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing full well I was risking losing everything that was important to me, I told her. She of course was very numb at first. She seemed to take it well. The other woman was now living in another city and was by now 5 or 6 months pregnant. After taking some time for her emotions to kick in she gave me an ultimatum. She could live with this, only if I promised to not ever be a part in that child’s life. I believe it was too much for her to have to spend a lifetime looking into the eyes of a child that should have been hers, and she realized this. I couldn’t do that. I would do most anything for her. I loved her. I couldn’t do that. Somehow I knew I had to at least let this child know who their father was. I couldn’t just pretend they didn’t exist. And so we parted. For the next 5 months I threw myself into my music. I threw myself into school. I threw myself into bottle after bottle and tried to drown the hurt. I had just lost the greatest love in my life, and now some little part of my life was about to be born in another city. I climbed inside the bottle with reckless abandon, and as the letters arrived from the woman in the other city soon to give life to my child, the music still played on.(to be continued...) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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