Falling Slowly
The melody of life...
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
And moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
Well, you have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won
- Falling Slowly, from Once
It was August of 2013. Although John and I had been to New York City in 2010 for my 50th, we were definitely like fish out of water in the big city, moving our youngest to a university a coast away without a relative or friend nearby. He would do a four day orientation backpacking trip and we’d head home. When we eagerly returned for the first football game, one of the first things we did, (since Ian was a “theater kid” at an art high school), was to rush tickets for a Broadway show. The show we saw in 2010, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “In The Heights,” was amazing and left us extremely emotional. We related.
“Moods that take me and erase me and I’m painted black.”
Four years later it would be “just the three of us,” at his graduation and a lot of tears. Too many tears. Almost over the top tears. Holding onto the hope that more than just us would show up to celebrate this huge, and very humbling accomplishment. We sat at the steakhouse watching other family celebrations and cried together. It had been a hard four years away from home. And now another chapter.
Leave, leave,
And please yourself at the same time
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you have to now
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you came to now
Leave, leave,
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you have to now
Leave, leave...
Leave, from Once
We took our seats at the intimate Bernard B. Jacobs theater, in the heart of the theater district, and waited as the curtain went up. The stage door opened and Tony Award winner Steve Kazee walked in strumming his guitar, singing “Leave.”
The music of Once had long played in seasonal moments of feelings, over and over in my car while driving to jobs, cleaning the house and working the wee hours in my office.
Should we just leave each other? our little family? the music and art that held us together? or the marriage compatibility tests that read each time, through a combination of letters, “not meant to be together.” John thought they were b.s. Guess that was a good thing.
But there we were, on this night, with our youngest-most-attached-to-our-emotions-last-born-child, now a young man, sitting between us — suddenly transported into another realm. I felt his hand reaching for mine, then his dad’s, as the lyrics poured onto the old wood stage, air growing thicker, as if choking every last emotion wadded up in it’s leftover stoic storage unit. The one we reserved for our dignity. Squeezing tighter and tighter afraid to look at each other, we were left gulping tears, like years of never ending rivers of needs, wants and desires. Drained. The show had only just begun. But this kid knew us. He saw the good and the bad.
Three days later, we’d fly home again, 2,324 miles to an empty nest and quiet. So very quiet.
Perhaps we were too driven, too passionate.
Our stories go far beyond a social media snippet. Least we judge. Or be judged.
'Cause I'm picking up the message, Lord
And I'm closer than I've ever been before
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
Just say it to me now
- Say It to Me Now, from Once
And I love her so
I wouldn't trade her for gold
- Gold, from OnceI wouldn’t trade him for gold.
He better be himself
and I’ll be me.
Somehow we’ll make it.
Stay living.
And how am I supposed to live without you?
A wrong word said in anger and you were gone
I'm not listening for signals
It's all dust now on the shelf
Are you still working? Still counting?
Still buried in yourself?
And how in the world did we come
To have such an absent love?
- Sleeping, from Once
This is us. Strong minded, creative, independent, strugglers, lovers, dreamers and truth seekers, who have a continual hope in each other, while the world spins madly on. We’ve spent a lifetime leaning on and walking away from each other. In the end, the dust on the shelf will be full of love, good intention, lessons and a ton of imperfection.
God’s been good to us.
This is the getting older and wiser. More love, more peace. Less war.
We’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff anymore, as my dad used to say…
falling slowly hastily painfully leaving angrily saying things we regret being you and me holding onto golden moonbeams believing in moments breaking down building up the score sleeping absent saying sorry raising a hopeful voice a choice not to sink but to turn it around sing our melody and make it loud... The Melody of Life - deborah t. hewitt
That is so painfully beautiful. That song and album brings up such memories for me. When I reconnected with my current husband after not seeing each other for over 20 years, that album played on repeat. I worked with a voice teacher to learn to sing Falling Slowly. Your memories and your storytelling are exquisite. I love thinking of the three of you, a trio in New York forming that beautiful bond.
I love your heartfelt work, Deborah. So expressive, it touches the heart.