Sunday, September 4, 2011

my brother's letter....

My brother wanted to leave this comment on my previous post, but something is wrong with blogger.... he can't comment and I can't even post the comment for him!  So, I just wanted to make sure this gets posted somewhere!

Dear Shane;
I met you maybe a couple times, I was the little brother who wanted to tag along and hang out with my sister and her friends and be into what you guys were into. Of course I never actually knew you, but I knew that my big sister loved you and I can see now that your love for her was among the greatest in the world. I don't know what darkness tormented your soul, and I don't know what you went through. Some souls it seems have a greater burden to bear than others, a harder battle to fight. Whatever black karma caused your life to be such a painful one, from my sisters words I know that you faced it with the fortitude of a true warrior. You had the wisdom to see that your life was heading in the direction that it did, and the compassion to sacrifice your own desires for the benefit of another. You could have stayed with her until the end, as her love for you was such that she would never have left, and she would have stood by your side and endured the emotional pain of watching you and trying to help you as you battled your demons. You could have accepted from her the most beautiful gift of her virginity, after which she would have been irrevocably attached to you even more strongly. But you saw, whether consciously or intuitively, that her soul was one so bright and so powerful that to take her with you, along what you knew would be a downward spiral, would be to steal from the world a precious gift. Though she would still be alive, her love for you would have caused her pain and would have held her back from her potential to become what she is. She is today a joyful and loving wife and mother of three, to whom she will pass on the wisdom and love which you felt so strongly. In this way, you have given to me the amazing sister I have today, who has been my most valued teacher and my best friend, and for this I thank you with all my heart, and you have given to the world the spiritual guide, mother and teacher that could not have been the same if she had dedicated her life to healing your pain, and for this the Universe is sure to thank you. Finally, you have given to her the gift of not having to live through a boyfriend or husband committing suicide. Her pain and sorrow at your departure is great, even after years of separation, but imagine how much worse it would have been if she had another ten years of memories to haunt her, memories of trying to pull you out of the dark storms of your mind, trying to stop the runaway train of your life, and finally having to lose you anyway. I'm sorry that your life was so painful, but because of the sacrifices you made for Love, and the strength you showed in the face of emotional torture, I know that your soul will be duly rewarded. thank you and bless you.
In Lak'ech,

"A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
how that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
that I could make those people dance
and maybe they’d be happy for a while.
But february made me shiver,
with every paper I’d deliver,
bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
when I read about his widowed bride,
but something touched me deep inside,
the day the music died...
Did you write the book of Love,
and do you have faith in God above,
if the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
can music save your mortal soul,
and can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes,
man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
with a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
but I knew I was out of luck,
the day the music died...
Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
and moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
but that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the King and Queen,
in a coat he borrowed from James Dean
and a voice that came from you and me...
And while the King was looking down,
the jester stole his thorny crown,
the courtroom was adjourned;
no verdict was returned.
And while Lennon read a book on Marx,
the quartet practiced in the park,
and we sang dirges in the dark,
the day the music died...
Helter skelter in a summer swelter,
the birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
with the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
while the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
the marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed,
the day the music died...
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
a generation lost in space
with no time left to start again.
So come on, jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
cause fire is the devil’s only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage,
no angel born in Hell
could break that Satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
to light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died...
I met a girl who sang the blues
and I asked her for some happy news,
but she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
where I’d heard the music years before,
but the man there said the music wouldn’t play.
And in the streets the children screamed,
the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
the church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost,
they caught the last train for the coast
the day the music died,
and They were singing...
bye-bye, miss American Pie,
drove my chevy to the levee,
but the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
singin, this’ll be the day that I die...
this'll be the day that I die."
-Don Mclean

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