Your Memory Will Carry On
1/1
"Let's go into the city, shall we?", my father asked.
I loved my dad. He was always there for me, he always took me somewhere new.
I had never been in the city before. Sure I had been in the bigger parts of our little city, but I had never been to New York.
That's where my dad wanted to take me. It was the city and it took a good two hours to go there by car. My father didn't care, though. He wanted to show me something. Something that would remind me of him forever.
My dad knew he didn’t have much longer to live. Though he was just 37 years old, something ate him from the inside. My dad had cancer.
On my sixth birthday, my father, took me to New York. I was so excited, just like a hyper six year old kid, that was about to get something he dreamed of for ages. I was sure I would love the city, although I hadn't even seen it on pictures before.
When we got there, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it was that big. I had never seen anything comparable to this.
So my dad and I went through the some parts of the city, shopping, having fun, until he said, it was time to see something unforgettable. He was right. What he showed me this day, was stuck in my head since then.
There was a huge parade, going across the city, even through the outer parts, the poor parts.
Everyone was dressed in black uniforms, something I found funny, since every parade I had seen before had been the most colorful thing in the whole world.
Though I liked the fact, that this one was different. I liked being different, and this Black Parade was just blowing my mind. Everything seemed to be just in the exact place it was supposed to be. Nothing seemed to be senseless in any way. Each of the persons in those uniforms were sending a message. It was like everything was screaming, 'though you're dead, you live on in our hearts. Nothing will ever kill you completely.'
I don’t know why I was even able to understand that, since I was just six years old, but my dad had taught me so much, I believe it was because of him.
Even the music, that was playing during the parade was representing it. On one of the many wagons, there were five people with the same uniform, though so different. They were playing the music, I guess. One of them had a bass guitar, two others were playing guitar, there was even one guy on the drums and someone was singing. His voice matched the kind of music they were playing perfectly. I just loved it.
Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me.
And other times I feel like I should go.
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.
And when you're gone we want you all to know.
We'll carry on,
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And in my heart I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it.
Those lyrics fit perfectly. Everything about the whole parade was screaming it.
I think that was what my father wanted me to know. He was about to die, but he would've never been gone completely. I would always remember him, and everything he showed me.
My dad was the man, who made me who I am. Without him, I wouldn’t be the same. I would've never been this hyper six year old, who loved to see a marching band completely dressed in black. I would've never grown to be the 19 year old guy, who loves to wear black, skinny jeans and eyeliner.
And I thank him for everything he ever did, though he might not hear it anymore. I never stopped believing, that in some way, he was still here, watching over me, saving me from all the stupid things I could've done in my life.
I thank him for everything he taught me, to keep on hoping, though everything is viewless.
Now, I know why he once told me to fight and hold on. My dad had gone through exactly the same, that I have to go through now.
I have cancer, the same one my father died of thirteen years ago. There's no hope, I will survive this. The doctors told me already, but I still hope, I will at least live on somewhere else. Somewhere I can watch over my mom, who breaks down every time she sees me like this. Somewhere I can be with my dad, or all the other people, whose lives ended just like mine.
Somewhere I can be free.
I loved my dad. He was always there for me, he always took me somewhere new.
I had never been in the city before. Sure I had been in the bigger parts of our little city, but I had never been to New York.
That's where my dad wanted to take me. It was the city and it took a good two hours to go there by car. My father didn't care, though. He wanted to show me something. Something that would remind me of him forever.
My dad knew he didn’t have much longer to live. Though he was just 37 years old, something ate him from the inside. My dad had cancer.
On my sixth birthday, my father, took me to New York. I was so excited, just like a hyper six year old kid, that was about to get something he dreamed of for ages. I was sure I would love the city, although I hadn't even seen it on pictures before.
When we got there, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it was that big. I had never seen anything comparable to this.
So my dad and I went through the some parts of the city, shopping, having fun, until he said, it was time to see something unforgettable. He was right. What he showed me this day, was stuck in my head since then.
There was a huge parade, going across the city, even through the outer parts, the poor parts.
Everyone was dressed in black uniforms, something I found funny, since every parade I had seen before had been the most colorful thing in the whole world.
Though I liked the fact, that this one was different. I liked being different, and this Black Parade was just blowing my mind. Everything seemed to be just in the exact place it was supposed to be. Nothing seemed to be senseless in any way. Each of the persons in those uniforms were sending a message. It was like everything was screaming, 'though you're dead, you live on in our hearts. Nothing will ever kill you completely.'
I don’t know why I was even able to understand that, since I was just six years old, but my dad had taught me so much, I believe it was because of him.
Even the music, that was playing during the parade was representing it. On one of the many wagons, there were five people with the same uniform, though so different. They were playing the music, I guess. One of them had a bass guitar, two others were playing guitar, there was even one guy on the drums and someone was singing. His voice matched the kind of music they were playing perfectly. I just loved it.
Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me.
And other times I feel like I should go.
And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.
And when you're gone we want you all to know.
We'll carry on,
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And in my heart I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it.
Those lyrics fit perfectly. Everything about the whole parade was screaming it.
I think that was what my father wanted me to know. He was about to die, but he would've never been gone completely. I would always remember him, and everything he showed me.
My dad was the man, who made me who I am. Without him, I wouldn’t be the same. I would've never been this hyper six year old, who loved to see a marching band completely dressed in black. I would've never grown to be the 19 year old guy, who loves to wear black, skinny jeans and eyeliner.
And I thank him for everything he ever did, though he might not hear it anymore. I never stopped believing, that in some way, he was still here, watching over me, saving me from all the stupid things I could've done in my life.
I thank him for everything he taught me, to keep on hoping, though everything is viewless.
Now, I know why he once told me to fight and hold on. My dad had gone through exactly the same, that I have to go through now.
I have cancer, the same one my father died of thirteen years ago. There's no hope, I will survive this. The doctors told me already, but I still hope, I will at least live on somewhere else. Somewhere I can watch over my mom, who breaks down every time she sees me like this. Somewhere I can be with my dad, or all the other people, whose lives ended just like mine.
Somewhere I can be free.