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By Candle Wind

Short essay about having a talk with myself and thinking about the death of Guy Babylon

author writes short stories and poems

Standing on the edge of your bed and imagining it is the edge of the deepest abyss you will fall into, and all doctors‘ resuscitation attempts will be futile if you jump. He died. Your heart is filling with pain, it is overflowing. Your pain is not a small stream anymore but as a sea it is coming out of your heart which is weeping. But there is an empty place inside you. Everything you ever wished for collapsed in a single moment. You thought you must see each other one time. But before it was possible the Fate changed your plans. His heart failed while you least needed it. You looked up to him, you loved him like no other musician in the world, even though you did not admit it to people around you. Knowing that he is “there“ somewhere gave you the power to fight yourself. You lost him in just a flash of time. Tears running down your face, you fell down on your pillow and silently cryed into the darkness: “Why him!“

Only two words turned your life upside down. And you know that not only your life. You are remembering the video where you first saw the face of his wife...and his son...the boy that amazed you almost as much as his father. He was there yet.

You are crying and want to go with him. Even now, after a week, you miss him, although you have never met in person. There is a hole in your heart, your idol and angel is dead. You are thinking about his family, his three children, his wife, his sister, his parents. You are young, but he was not so old to deserve the death. Reaching for the knife you remember your school years when you used it in practics. The blade touches your forearm. Is your life worth living it? Is it worth to do anything? Many things you were doing for and because of him, he taught you so many things and then you wanted to be like him...a keyboardist. You are learning music. Now your part is wet from your tears and he, who gave you the courage to fulfil your dreams, is buried. You cannot even visit him. You cannot light a candle on the cold tombstone. You cannot do anything. You cannot even breathe anymore.

The room is very cold. You are shivering with coldness, also your pillow is cold because it is soaked with tears.

Suddenly something or someone is talking in your head. Or in your room? It is saying: “Get up! Cheer up. Nothing, absolutely nothing has changed. Everything is the same!“

You hear the voice saying: “I am still here! And you know what? He will not leave as long as you believe in him. He believes there are no goodbyes on the road. You have never needed him physically to give you strength, so what is so different? Do not become recluse. Can you hear it? Do you recognize the song? Can you hear his keyboard? Can you see him playing on his keyboard with huge concentration? Maybe he has his sleeves rolled up above his elbows as he always has had. You love this view so much. Maybe he finished the song but you can still hear it. Perhaps he is smiling. You are not sure.

Close the knife. Open your heart. You can find him in there every time you want and not only in there. His music will never die. Yes. His heart failed. There was a funeral, he is dead. But no one can kill his music. And do you know? Do you know you look good with a smile on your face? Now you are sure he is smiling. Get up. Wipe off the tears. Look… was it you who said that the angels do not leave?

By Candle Wind

Takový malý fajeton skrze rozmluvu k sobě samém o smrti Guy Babylona

autor je povídkář a básník