The Living Years

I must have heard this 1988 song by Mike and The Mechanics at least a hundred times in my lifetime but it wasn't until a few months ago when I heard it on my way to work and started crying like a baby that I really understood all that it meant.  "The Living Years", according to Wikipedia, was written by Mike Rutherford and B.A. Robertson who had both lost their fathers recently.  Mike had a difficult relationship with his Dad and Robertson had a son a few months after his father died.  I haven't lost my father but I feel drawn to this song.  I really think it captures the helplessness and loss you feel at the finality of losing someone you love.  I have been feeling it a great deal lately - when I think of something funny my brother said or what he might have said to a particular situation.  I can't help but get lost in my thoughts of little things I could have said or changed during the last year of his life.  I often wish I had been more present in our last phone conversation - you know, when you are hearing someone but you cooking, or cleaning or half watching mindless televison.  I wish I could have taken a moment to soak up every letter, every pause, every breath, every piece of that conversation between us.  During those final hours in the hospital, I wish I could have thought of something more clever to say than some mindless babble about a television show I had seen.  During those final minutes, I wish I could have been more convincing when I told him to stay strong... because I knew he was already gone.  There are so many things I want to say to my brother, so many things I would have loved to had said to my Grandfather other than "I love you." before they put him on life support. 

Anyway, today, on the eight month anniversary of my brother's death, after I followed a silver Mustang into work this morning, I heard it on line at Chick-fil-A at lunch - I wish I could say I was doing something more profound than satisfying my craving for waffle fries but it hit me again.  Needless to say, I couldn't hide the tears from streaming down beneath my dark shades.  The guy at the drive-thru window must have thought I was really happy or really sad to get my order...



Here are the lyrics:

Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner
To all my Father held so dear
I know that I'm a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I'm afraid that's all we've got
You say you just don't see it
He says it's perfect sense
You just can't get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die
To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It's the bitterness that lasts
So Don't yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
And if you don't give up, and don't give in
You may just be O.K.

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die
To admit we don't see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning
When my Father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say
I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I'm sure I heard his echo
In my baby's new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years.

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die