Tuesday Tunes: Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea”

Editor’s Note: Song lyrics denoted in bold italics.

Melissa was all excited to have me do a guest post on her Tuesday Tunes this week. I have recently started listening to the Norah Jones station on Pandora. Norah and I go way back, to right after Brian died. Her music was my grieving music, and it is only in the last couple of years that I have been able to listen to it again. Back then, it tore me up; now it comforts me.

Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea”
From Ultimate Bobby Darin

Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships that go sailin’

So, I added the station on Pandora, and a strange thing began to happen. I had given a thumbs up to the song Beyond the Sea, but they began to play it numerous times each time I turned it on. I give thumbs up to lots of songs, but for some strange reason, Beyond the Sea comes on way more often than the other songs I like.

It’s far beyond the stars
It’s near beyond the moon
I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon


We’ll meet beyond the shore
We’ll kiss just as before
Happy we’ll be beyond the sea
And never again I’ll go sailing

This is strangely comforting to me because from the very first time I listened to it, back in 2004, I just knew that this song belonged to Brian and me. Now, granted, I was fresh into grief from Brian’s death the year before, but I can truly see him waiting for me somewhere…maybe beyond the sea.

I just know he’s “somewhere waiting for me” and what better place than the beach, where so many of our happiest memories happened? Someday…

Tuesday Tunes: Jana Kramer’s “Why You Wanna”

Editor’s Note: Song lyrics denoted in bold italics.

I’m not very good at reading signals. In fact, I never have been. It’s just never come very easily to me. It’s not that I have trouble reading societal cues — it’s just that I tend to think people guys are saying one thing when they actually mean something else.

Does anyone have the Cliff’s Notes for these sorts of interactions? Because, obviously, I could REALLY use them. Like yesterday. That’s literally how bad it is. I mean, it’s no exaggeration to say that I embarrass myself on a daily basis here.

You know I’m a sucker for a solid country love song, especially the ones that tug extra tightly at the heartstrings. Really, the more those songs are about heartbreak, the better! And when it comes to those sad songs, no one does it quite like Jana Kramer…

Jana Kramer’s “Why You Wanna”
From Jana Kramer

Why is it that I have a tendency to get so wrapped up in everything? It’s so easy for me to just lose all sense of emotional control and throw my heart into everything. Without thinking. And all those “signals” I mentioned before? Well, those are as foreign to me as Hieroglyphics! Half the time, I don’t even know what the guy is saying!

Out of all of the places in this little town
Yeah, you had to come walking in here and sit down
I’m hiding and hoping my face ain’t too red
Since we been over, been trying like crazy to get you out of my head

OK, so before you bring the obvious to my attention, YES, I know there was never any sort of concrete relationship to speak of (and, yes, I am referring to a couple people specifically), but I’d argue that is what makes it all the more confusing. When you think about it, if there was a relationship, at least everything would make a little more sense. But here? There aren’t even subtitles. I’m just being thrown a whole bunch of confusing dialogue. Granted, I probably think about it more than I should. I analyze it over and over in my head — and on this blog. What I said. What he said. My awkward body language. The way he gets that mischievous grin on his face just as he’s about to say something funny…

Wait, what was I saying?

Oh, right. I pick apart and dissect every little detail as though it were under a microscope.

So-o-o
Why you wanna
Show up in a old t-shirt that I love
Why you gotta tell me that I’m looking good
Don’t know what
You were thinkin’
You were doing
Moving in for a hug
Like you don’t know I’m coming unglued
Why you gotta
Why you wanna
Make me keep wanting you

And you know what is soooo utterly frustrating? No, more like annoying. Yes, annoying — that’s exactly the right word. The most annoying thing is that I sometimes think he knows just what he’s doing. It’s like he has some big master plan or something. Does that sound paranoid? I don’t mean it to, but, really, it seems like he knows just what to do and say to make me give just one more piece of my heart away. And it’s not like I’m actually giving my heart to him. I feel like I’m throwing it into this abyss — a gigantic black vortex, if you will — and I’ll never get it back.

Why
Why
Why
Would you tell me that you call me up sometime?
Maybe we can get a drink and just catch up
Like that’d be enough
No, that ain’t enough

But I do give my heart away. Even if he doesn’t know it. I shouldn’t. I’ve told myself not to because I know better. I know what will happen, how he’ll walk away after we meet for lunch or something and I’ll be left standing there holding my heart in my hand.

“Can’t you see my heart?” I wish I could scream to him. “IT’S RIGHT HERE.” All these things I’d say to him if I could. But he keeps making everything so difficult and complicated. What’s with the mixed messages? I’d sure like to know. They seem pretty pointless to me.

Tuesday Tunes: R.E.M’s “Everybody Hurts”

Editor’s Note: Song lyrics denoted in bold italics.

Damn you, Pandora, you’ve done it to me again. How is it that you do this to me every single time I listen to you? It’s like you have this power over me and are able to completely put me in a trance. You know, the kind where you literally have to STOP and listen to the words because they’re telling your story.

R.E.M’s “Everybody Hurts”
From Automatic For The People

This song came out when I was young. Too young to really know what the words meant or the feelings they were trying to capture. And honestly, the slow vibe of the melody sort of bored me to death. Blah, I thought, what’s so special about this song? Why is everyone and their emo, flannel-wearing brother so obsessed with it? It just didn’t make much sense to me.

And then, in the usual way I’ve come to divide my life, my father died.
When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on


Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes

The days used to be so long just after he died. It felt like I was walking through a haze and my whole body felt heavy. And the nights? Well, those were pretty dark too. The quiet had a way of being downright deafening at times; going through the throes of grief and being alone with all your thoughts can be a very bad combination. There were a lot of nights where I’d just lie there in the dark under the covers because I didn’t know what else to do. Ir maybe I didn’t want to do anything else? Even now, I’m not quite sure.

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on


Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don’t throw your hand, oh no

Obviously, it helped in the beginning to know that I wasn’t alone. To know that, yes, everybody hurts and that no one’s life is picture-perfect easy was a comfort, as odd as that sounds. And the support of my family meant the world to me — probably more than they’ll ever know — and I hope that I was just as much of a help to them. It’s such a wonderful thing when you can lean on people who are going through the same thing, isn’t it? You can commiserate and cry and vent and even laugh, all the while knowing that you won’t be judged or ridiculed for it. It’s a pretty safe feeling, actually.

If you’re on your own in this life
The days and nights are long
When you think you’ve had too much of this life to hang on

And these lines? Well, they reminded me of my father — in ways I never expected. I’ve wanted to shout this to him for years, but, ironically, I can’t because he’s not here. Why didn’t he once think to stick around, grab onto us for dear life and hold on with everything he had? Did he really not think that we’d do ANYTHING for him? We’d have moved mountains and parted the seas if only he’d told us what he was feeling and told us of the dark place he was in. It wasn’t like him to keep us so in the dark, so to speak, and I suppose I’ll always have those sorts of questions in the back of my mind.

Then the realist in me always seems to come out, though, and realize that perhaps that’s exactly why he didn’t tell us. He knew that we would have done anything and, obviously, that’s the last thing he wanted. But he wasn’t alone. And I hope he knew that, even in the end. He was never alone. We loved him so much.

My Essay on Marie Claire: “My Dad Got Cancer…and I’m Still Picking Up the Pieces”

Exciting news, friends: I had a new essay published on Marie Claire last week! I’m pretty proud of this one because it explores just how much I wanted my grief to “fit in” somewhere after my father’s death. I needed to feel like I belonged somewhere — anywhere — and that there was a safe place where my emotions could be understood.

Here’s an excerpt from the essay, which also got picked up by Good Housekeeping over the weekend…

A few years into my grief, my mom and I attended a National Survivors of Suicide Day conference in Chicago, a day where survivors come together to share their stories and give support to one another. While I listened to everyone’s stories, I couldn’t help but feel out of place. It was as if I was looking into a world full of these experiences that had nothing to do with my life — I just couldn’t identify with anyone, even people who had lost a parent.

When it was my turn to speak, I shared my story, but I felt like it wasn’t really “my story.” They were my words, sure, but this was the story of someone else’s life, not mine. It was as if I was sitting outside the scene and looking in; everything was so remote, so foreign, so unfamiliar.

In fact, I didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. My father had cancer, yes, but that’s not technically what he died from — so was I really a member of the cancer survivors community too? And although he committed suicide, he’d never had a history of mental illness, so how could I be the traditional survivor of suicide? In grief, feeling like you fit in somewhere — anywhere — is a very powerful and necessary thing, so to feel like I was alone was even more isolating.

I’d wanted to connect so badly to something, anything, that would make me feel like I was understood. My father was gone and my grief was real — and more than that, it mattered. My family understood, sure, but for some reason, I wanted everyone else to understand as well. I started feeling like I was trying desperately to still connect with my father, to bridge my former life with the one I’m living now.

You can read the full essay here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! Love you all… xoxo

P.S. Catch up on past essays: I’m Physically Disabled, But I Want Love, The One Thing That Helped Me Heal From My Dad’s Suicide and My Father Committed Suicide, But He’s Still My Superhero.

My Essay on Cosmo: “My Father Committed Suicide, But He’s Still My Superhero”

I’m SO excited to share my newest essay on my father’s suicide for Cosmo! It went live yesterday, and I think it turned out really well. As I was reading it over again (I’m not the only one who does this, right?), I couldn’t help but notice that maybe, just maybe, I’ve progressed on this whole grief journey I’ve been on for the last 13 years. I’ve written a lot about suicide and it’s aftermath, but this essay felt a little different. For the first time, it touched on coming to a bit of closure — well, I suppose, as much closure as you could ever get following the suicide of a loved one. But it’s a start, right? And that’s what’s most important to me.

Here’s an excerpt from the essay, which also got picked up by Redbook and Woman’s Day…

Maybe that’s the thing about suicide: It’s ugly. It’s messy. It’s complicated. And, as we learned, it doesn’t discriminate — it doesn’t care if you’ve had a perfect life or if you’ve been happy every day of your life. And in it’s aftermath, as my anger eventually turned to sadness, I began to see that suicide isn’t just something that happens to the person who dies. It happens to everyone around them. It’s a family disease, creating ripples that are felt and carried by the survivors for the rest of their lives.

I like to think that if my father had the choice to go back in time, he would do things differently. I have to believe that because if I let my mind wander too far into a dark place, I start to wonder: Why? Why did my father, the ultimate family man, take his own life? How could he just leave us like that? Did the treatment cause damage to his frontal lobe, the part of the brain responsible for impulse control?

We’ll never know and that’s left a permanent hole in my heart.

For those left behind, life is never the same and sometimes, you find yourself struggling just to hang on. Maybe I’m not drowning in the grief anymore, but it is with me. Every day. Everywhere I go and everything I do. Still, I try not to let it eat me alive either.

You can read the full essay here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. And, PLEASE, never forget that there is help out there. Don’t be afraid to speak up and seek help if you or someone you know is depressed or suicidal. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

P.S. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! Love you all… xoxo