Rut #5 Brady Edwards

This is something I wrote recently, when my grandfather had his heart attack while driving and crashed his car. He held on for a couple of weeks, trying to get stable and recover. His condition progressively got worse until he passed away in the middle of the night. It gave me a lot to think about, and a lot to write about. After my parents got divorced and my dad seized the house, my family was homeless for a time. They moved up here to Utah and stayed with my grandfather. He took them in while I was on my mission and helped raise my family while I was gone. I meant a great deal to my family, and so losing him evoked a lot of emotion and feeling from us and the extended family. Family as far as hawaii and Germany came into town to see him, saying their piece and grieving. I turned to a notepad and started writing this, and have since finished it for this assignment.



The Patriarch

So you find yourself in a car crash, breathing "save me from this."
Between the lines and compressions
we realize what we've missed.

With broken ribs and breaking heart, oil pools all over the floor;

Horizon's rim, the Far Lands,

as we pry open the car door.

They call it a sore chest, a saved life.
But was it only meant to be for a night,

were we not supposed to save his life?

Raise our hopes just to say goodbye,

Oh why?
Did we not break his ribs hard enough?
Is this karma calling out our bluff?
Leaving him by himself for so long,
one with a heart so soft, eyes so worn, hands that were firm but never felt too rough.

How could you say he's meant to die?
That mask's what's keeping him alive!

The tender feelings, their youngest cries.

How can you say he's no longer there, when he just held my hand and looked me in the eyes!

You've got it all wrong, listen to me!
He needs us like he needs that IV
Drip hooked up to his swollen hands,
We sit and talk and fight and walk
and cry and pray and finally stand
Circled around the man meant to die;
But what if he pulls through again tonight? 

Hands to head, her last goodbye.
Stony confessions, oh, now she cries, because she thinks he sees a white light.

So last night, my cries mingled with his flat line
I lie flat, lying about the divine
I know he got there, I just don't know at what time
Unpaved roads, the bumpy car ride
HOME.

I've never seen a snow like this.
Lapels pinned with a bloom that winter's mist
Can't touch or wear out. On the surface
   the season's defied, but her beat isn't missed.
I carry my patriarch. I carry my patriarch.
When a role model becomes an ancestor.. Your paradigm is inclement as weather.
Now he's watching, it's time to do better.
Cuz now my role model has become my predecessor. 

I learned the power of words, and how they can take you back to a place, make you re-feel a feeling, and experience what we often have a hard time recalling. It was interesting, finishing this song. I've come up with a tune for it, but haven't transcribed it or written it out, though its sound will match the content. I envision it being more of a heavy, fast paced song, harsh but orchestrated. The whole ordeal felt the same way, so it only seems fitting.

Hopefully the sorrowful nature of the situation isn't what you hold onto, having read this. I'm doing great, the family's better, things have calmed down and returned back to normal. The imagery and word choice of the song is meant to make a person feel something, provoke thought and gratitude for what you have, then keep going.