Glitter in the Air

The first time I listened this song, I was alone in the dark. The silence surrounded me, streetlights shone their way into my bedroom. Using the shadows from naked trees and the haphazard spaces between my blinds as a guide. I could feel the tears as they dropped from the corner of my eyes, into cold surface of my pillow, warming them with what little of my happiness they had trapped inside.

As one song ended, this one began. And I could swear the most vulnerable voices that made up my mind finally decided to step out of my head and speak. A list of questions laid bravely and openly on to simple melody. I found this song when I was in a dark place. But it was the right place.

I get to these points, mentally and emotionally where I feel like everything becomes too much. A simple worry can build and become suffocating. I was able to master posture, and smiling just enough to get by. Then I'd come home-alone and the compliments echoing away into silence. It's was so easy to make people think that I believed in myself. That I was this strong person, who spoke these complex sayings that had so many meanings. That I would conquer this world alone. And leave the greatest legacy.

But here in the dark, truer words are spoken in this song. I close my eyes and find myself standing alone facing something I cannot see, and the lyrics are speaking to me, understandingly. Forcing me to see that I want what everyone else wants, to love and be loved. How I was so foolish to make believe I was fine, on my own. And I could be there for anyone who needed me. I wanted to be able to trust like I did when I was a child. That beautiful ability to do it all without conviction. It came so naturally, until the source of my innate ability left me, long before I was ready.

No doubt this song reminds me of my ever evolving feelings and memories about my father. Who died when I was seven, a man whom I never thought could be stricken down by another mans blow. Who carried me on his shoulders, closer to the sky than any roller coaster, mountain or Ferris wheel could take me. Crumbled down to nothing from the inside. One moment he was there and the next I was alone. He made it look so easy until he couldn't anymore.

When I hear this song, I feel that moment when we just stared at each other. His eyes were so dark and the room was so quiet. His lips were struggling to tell me to be good, but his eyes were saying the words to this song. As if he were speaking to someone I couldn't see, begging for more time. How do you tell the one person you love more than anything. All they need to know, in such little time? That the most horrible moments in your life can start out beautiful. The kiss of a lover, the broken promise of a loved one, or the immanent broken heart. They can come to you quickly, and just like that be fleeting. Like a bird on your shoulder, a butterfly on the edge of your handle bars or like glitter, in the air.

It was a week before he lost his battle with cancer. We had that moment, I wasn't sure if it was genuine or the drugs that were keeping him comfortable that cemented the moment I was about to witness. But he asked me, to ask my mother if I could lay with him that night in our home. My legs shook with unfounded nervousness as they carried me down the carpeted stairs. My fingers tracing the wooden accents as I found my mother standing over the stove, alone in the kitchen. And I asked her a question I assumed she had no reason to deny.

Without looking at me-she just said no. The moment I can only describe now as a strange dream-state one would find in a sun-dance film. There was no reason, no gentle delivery. Just, no. I backed away devastated, feeling twenty pounds heavier with every step. I made it up the stairs, and to my father. He saw them before I could say anything-the tears falling from the corners of my eyes. Weak fingers took mine and he said, that everything would be okay. That was all he could say. I stood by his bed holding his hand, until my legs grew tired.

It's the night that plays over and over in my mind. When I'm in that dark place. So I play this song, and the way the words climb out of my mind and speak to me. It's like I'm having that moment with my father, and I'm asking him all the questions I never had the chance to. And then I'm yelling at him for leaving me. And every time before I give into sleep. With a dutiful breath I ask myself will it ever get better than tonight?

Then I wake up. Thinking about that song and my father, and how every morning, after feeling so heavy, broken, and then weirdly anew I think of the physical act of throwing glitter in the air. The initial amazement, the way it dances with the light. How it happily it falls into the sky, and in your hands mere fragments remain. And now matter how long after it happens, you find pieces of it to remind you of all that you lost. Of how quickly the moment came, and went and how beautiful your time was.

Sometimes you laugh, and sometimes your angry, or the tears cling to the corners of your eyes, lowering themselves slowly down the sides of your face

I'm reminded by this song, that it's okay to not be strong, to trust the process and ask those questions. Wincing as you stand there, ready to trust despite the odds. That your heroes aren't as strong as you thought they were. But it doesn't mean they were any less brave. That there are some days, where the most vulnerable part of you should be included that beautiful legacy you leave behind.

So to help people learn, that be it a book, or a song, a memory, or the beautiful darkness of your child's eye. That it will get better than those nights.