I heard Eric Clapton's "Tears In Heaven" this morning. Sad, right? I know. A song about his little boy, who died tragically in 1991. I about wanted to throw up. But not for little Conor Clapton. Rather, I was reminded of Mom, who in a rush to record the video for this song on VH1, tripped over the dog (rest his soul) and cracked her head on the corner of the doorway.
I was in 2nd grade. My mom passed out on her bed, bleeding from the head. Instinctively, or more like, "I'm 9 and my mom is bleeding from the head, she must be dead," I, uh, assumed she was dead. So did the Sister. So we did what any terrified, almost-orphaned children would do. We called Dad at work and told him exactly that. Sorry, Dad.
Don't worry, Mom's fine. But she did get a forehead full of stitches. However, to this day that song makes me ill. There's flashbacks. Dog barking. Mom falling. Head bleeding. Whoa.
What is it about certain songs that are attached so definitevely to specific memories that we'll never recover? Ever. Thanks to ex-boyfriends and not-so-pleasant endings, I have multiple CDs that will never leave the shelf again. Oh, yes. It isn't about "our song," anymore. Suddenly, it's "our entire CD collection."
Nickelback, Tim McGraw and 3 Doors Down will never be the same. Even John Mayer's been tainted by lost love. And don't get me started on "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds. *shudder* (By the way, no one is attaching themselves or my memories to Jason Mraz. Oh no. I won't lose him to a failed relationship).
Not all memories are bad, of course. In fact, I have very fond memories of "G.T.O." by Ronny and the Daytonas. I remember me, the Sister, Mom, Dad, all crammed in the car on our way to a camping trip. "Waaaaaaaaah wa-wa-wa-wa-waaaaah!" Ahem. Yes, that song. But of course it's still going to make me sad since, obviously, I'm not a kid anymore. Family camping trips are few and far between these days. Us "kids" are grown and gone. So again, I lose.
There must be a way to detach yourself from a memory, or a song. Or both. I'm thinking somewhere along the "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" line. Although I suppose that's a bit drastic. But I want my music back, dangit. And I don't want the soundtrack of my life tainted by emotional memories. Or maybe that's the point. Memories that make the soundtrack make the life.
OK. Fine. Play on.