Songs down memory lane

“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything.” Plato

It is almost winter now and cold sea air is invading through small cracks in the window frame. The lights in the attic are dim but the bright moon is shining through the window, illuminating the room. I am wrapping my hands tightly around a cup of peppermint tea and lift it close to my face to warm myself. I close my eyes and calmly inhale the hot steam, allowing its fresh and sharp scent to fill me with serenity. I am looking out, letting my eyes wander over the vastness of the ocean. It is completely silent here. All I can hear is the roaring and crashing of the waves and blood hissing in my veins. I am thinking of you. How you taught me to build rafts and feel completely free by the sea.

I walk over to the shelf in the corner of the room, the wooden floor creaking under my feet. I take a small sip of hot tea and place the cup on a small antique table next to me. Nervousness is molding into excitement when I see the vinyl records all lined up in the shelf. I let my fingers glide over them, just as I used to when I was a child, trying to let my intuition tell me which one to choose. I found one. I slowly take it out and hold it in my hands. I am stroking over the cover. I can sense the small cracks in the packaging, testifying its years. The life it has witnessed. I am infused by the nostalgic smell of decaying cardboard mixed with vinyl. I take a deep breath, notice myself being transported back into that big armchair in our old living room. The cold autumn wind is hissing outside, colorful leaves are passing by the window. I am holding the same album, showing four smiling men on the cover. I carefully remove the record and, as meticulously as my hands are able to, I place it on the player. I watch it, how it slowly starts spinning, forming a waving movement. Now comes the most exciting part: placing the needle. I mindfully lift it and slide it over the edge of the record. Now, I breathe out and slowly let it decline. Oh, this familiar sizzling sound which is soon superseded by the sounds of a mellotron flute and an indian swarmandal. I listen to songs about love, and friendship, about peace and even about an octopus’ garden, which in fact was my favorite as a child, just because this was the only word in English that made sense to me. But I didn't need to understand the words back then. I could simply perceive the music, the passion it radiated and the look on your face when you were sitting in that armchair with closed eyes, immersed into the sound. Through music you taught me the beauty of seizing a moment…

The songs remind me of us traveling to the town you grew up in. You told me about all the places you remember, how they have changed over time. You told me about the people you knew, the fears and dreams you had when you were young. All the things that molded the person you grew up to be. And now memories are all that is left of you, for all my life. Through music you taught me to always remember where I come from…

I still can’t comprehend that you are gone. It truly does feel like yesterday when I heard your voice, when I felt your hug, when everything was still possible. I should have seen it coming. I should have listened to you when you tried to make me understand that you won’t be here for long. I guess you could feel it. It just all happened too suddenly. Oh, how I long for yesterday. I wish I could say all those things to you. Tell you how much you mean to me. Through music you taught me that life can be unpredictable…

I am roaming over the neatly arranged records on the shelf again. I come across one that I haven’t seen in years. I pull it out and have to smile when I see the cover showing a blurry man with sword and helmet straying through a forest. I see us sitting in the car, rocking and celebrating that electrifying guitar riff and the shrilling voice of this living legend. The desperate truth in his words. Who is going to help me now? Show me the things in life that I can’t find? Through music you taught me profoundness…

Oh, or this unforgettable, mystic song. The guitar intro is brisk and steady. Down beats are carrying me through the song. I remember us singing along, our voices harmonizing over the noisy buzzing of the car, pretending to be some drunk and gambler who has to capitulate to the fate of his life. I can still hear your deep voice vibrating. I feel safe. I feel home. Through music you taught me freedom...

A rhythmic Spanish guitar, gently sweeping, then raucous, letting me bite my underlip because I can’t grasp the genius of this composition. Me promising, that I will at some point learn to play this instrumental on the guitar myself. I remember us listening to the stimulating melody, singing about echoing drums and blessing the rains in Africa. I remember being inspired to come up with one of my first stories as a child. The images just took over my mind, the story seemed to write itself. Through music you taught me to liberate my imagination…

Then arises the exhilarating, crisp voice of John Fogerty, asking me if I have ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day. Well, ever since you’re gone, there is barely a day without rain. Showers of sadness unpredictably raining down on me, overshadowing all joy. And I keep wondering who will finally stop this rain. And we were singing songs about fathers and sons and about the wildness of this world. You always encouraged me to go out there, travel, explore the world and its people. Through music you taught me to always seek knowledge and stay curious…

You were the best mentor for this. You lived your life to the fullest, until you had reached the end. There was suddenly a way and you knew, you just knew you had to go away. Then a summoning soft strumming of guitar supported by the drums and fragments of harmonica. It is enlightening, empowering. Though, it is disrupted by this excruciating pain. I guess I am on the eve of destruction myself. I get lifted out of this dark cloud of grief by a warm and mellow piano piece, you used to play me. The soft voice, accompanied by soothing strings. Imagine what a hymn of peace. Through music you taught me to keep dreaming and stand in for my beliefs…

Now I have to think of the last one. It was the last song we ever listened to together. The last time this invigorating tune made us shiver. The last time we sang together. The last time we shared our love for music. Oh, this relentless and yet rhythmic riff which is gracefully joined by the sound of organ and the drums. I hope you are in a paradise now. Oh, how I would like to take your hand and explore that land. But I don’t belong there, not yet. What offers me contentment is, that I know you lived your life fully and you truly did it your way. All of it, until the end. Then, like a dandelion you withered, but your fruits were spread and will live on. And now it’s my time to take these memories, let them linger. I will take what you taught me, the music you made me love and pass it on to my children. They will know the vastness of life that is hidden in these songs. This music will lift the veil between our worlds so that you can live on.

Through music your taught me wisdom and what happiness is…

Through music to taught me to love the forest and savor nature…

Through music you taught me the different faces of love and longing…

Through music you taught me wisdom...

You taught me so many things, but above all you taught me to be the person I am.

Now, being carried down memory lane, my heavy frown is transformed into a smile. I am grateful for everything you taught me, everything we shared. Brimming over with sweet melancholy, I slowly come back to the present moment. I am in the attic, alone in this house, in silence. All that is left is the clicking of the record that has run out. Now, nothing is left but a sea of visions that were created through you. Nothing but the sound of silence. Silence that is filled with music. Filled with memories. Filled with you.