Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Nostalgia Factory

I am about to get sappier than ever. Consider your self warned.

But I remember everything
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

Mum called me the other day to tell me she'd be busy for my Granma's first year rites. I don't really have a great way of expressing that in English (or my language for that matter), but it's something like praying for the departed on a year after their passing.

Everyone on mum's side is like granma - terribly affectionate, very physical, shrill laughter, quick but inconsequential temper, and a very naughty sense of humor. Granma made it impossible for anyone to dislike her. I visited her a year after coming to the US and she beamed a smile that I'll never forget. She was proud of me and my brothers. She let each one of us know, every single time. She was god fearing and would spend nearly half her time praying. It gave her respite from all the aching joints and muscles that were slowly withering away. I can recite all those prayers, in order, to this day.

When mum told me about the rites - not as much as a reminder as an FYI - I asked her to pray for granma. I had been drinking. I reasoned it was wrong to pray for someone so pious, even if I did set my white russian aside. Mum didn't say much - she doesn't approve of my binge drinking - but did say I'm an excellent grandson.

I am. But then again, I don't can't pray. I've been asked to pray for others, but I've never been able to do it with conviction. It's not atheism - I'm still searching for an answer. All that doubt makes it hard to appeal to an abstract entity. It makes me spell god without a capital g. I may find the answer one day, but till then I have the ones I love to think about.

Granma, I miss you. Mum, you're everything she was, but a 100 times more special. I'm glad I still have you and I'll revere you forever.

Baby blue, we have each other. I'll sing that serenade I promised, someday.


Purely Narcotic said...

Johnny Cash's version of Hurt haunts. Good God, it does. (Excuse the capital g there)

Did you send this entry to your mama?

And just a FYI: Your Captcha says Be-Calm-a. :)

Rassles said...

Hey, Mr. The World Is A Vampire,

(I had to say it. For some reason, that part of your review cracked me up)

It looks like everyone's getting all familial and sentimental lately, doesn't it?

This was pretty.

Sometimes, I feel like blogger is a sneaky little fucker with its word verifiers: Bramids.


Thanatos said...

@ Narco

The version made me write this post :) I'm thinking of sending it to mum. Lets see.

@ Rassles

Ha, that name should have stuck. Yeah, too many sentiments everywhere. My next post will be about boxing midgets in the ears.

And bacon.

Purely Narcotic said...

I was reading how Cash wasn't given any background/didn't know any background on Hurt and he sang it the only way he knew. And now he's made it his own song!

Takes me back to the post you made about bands and covers. I picked up on the Children of Bodom's version of Ooops I did it again from there. And I quite liked how they have played around with Britney Bitch straddling the fine line between spoof and 'original' cover

Thanatos said...

Yeah, Cash owned the song. It was also the last video he made. A bit theatrical, but intense in parts as well.

That cover's hilarious, it even has a solo! Check out the translation for the spoken part, pure genius.

Purely Narcotic said...

Theatrical says the boy who courts drama! ;)

Spoken part: Aha! Now that's wit and wisdom waiting to be discoverd. Thanks again :)