I do it over, and over, and over.
I do it again, and again, and again.
Ever since our daughter passed away three years ago, I constantly
listen to songs that remind me of her; songs that make me think about
the way she loved me like no other daughter could; songs that take me
back to those terrible moments as she breathed her last.
And I do it again, and again, and again.
I listen to songs like "I See The Light," from the Disney movie
"Tangled." It takes me back to that scene in the film where the King
hangs his head in terrible grief as he remembers his child that was
abducted so long ago. And it reminds me of my own terrible grief
through which I have to live day in and day out.
Once, listening to the song made me cry out loud in my car, and
looking to the sky, I told the Lord: "Beloved, it hurts so much!" Yet,
I still do it again, and again, and again.
I listen to songs like "I Was Here" by Beyonce, and it reminds me so
much of her. That song makes me so grateful that my daughter was here
in my life, and then the grief comes back to me in full force, causing
tears to flow down my face. Yet, I listen to that song again, and
again, and again.
I listen to songs that she used to love, and it hurts so much to know
that she is no longer around to sing that song with me. It hurts to
realize that, if I look in the rear view mirror, I will not see her
smiling face singing that song along with me. Yet, I listen to them
again, and again, and again.
It seems that I am torturing myself unnecessarily. I mean, why
repeatedly do something to myself that causes so much pain?
But, somehow, it brings me a little bit of comfort. Every day, the
pain of her loss resonates through my whole body. It is truly a
miracle that my wife and I can go through the day without screaming
out in sheer horror. It is truly a miracle that my wife and I can even
get up and get through the day.
But, whenever I do this - listen to those songs that bring back the
grief of her loss - it also brings her back as well. It makes me think
of her more; puts her memory back into focus; makes her the center of
my mind's eye. And, somehow, as painful as it is, it is also
As the months and years pass after her death, she is becoming more and
more of a distant memory. The sights, and sounds, and feelings, and
associations are becoming more and more remote. Perhaps this is out of
the Lord's mercy, for if the grief of her loss was constantly fresh,
we would not be able to function. At the same time, however, it hurts
that she is becoming more and more distant.
So, I listen to those songs that hurt so much.
And when I break down, succumbing to the enormous grief that is always
just under the surface, it makes me feel better. It is important to
get that grief out, from time to time. Otherwise, I would just melt
from the pain and terror.
And so, I listen to those songs that hurt so much. And I do so again,
and again, and again. It hurts, but I do it just the same.
I miss you so much, my baby. Daddy misses you so, so much.