Hearing Is for the Lucky

I can't believe I found this... now....

Little journal, you're the thing I've missed in these months. The agony. The torture. The death.

You should have kept me sane through this all, but you laid hidden in my drawer of old clothes. God knows who put you there. I always kept you at least kind of close to me.

Tears came to my eyes as I read the entries in this book. I actually smiled for the first in a month reading this.

I knew this would come in handy. I could remember the good days, then...

It was August. The band and I went to America for our first big tour there. Morgan was fine, she was stable and had been for a long time.

I liked the good days. They gave me hope for her.

But a long time of good days always means its going to slump into terrible weakness. It always happened. And since this was the best she had been, I was afraid to leave her if something should happened suddenly.

Everything was fine until mom called me the second last day of the tour. Morgan had been calling me everyday, at least to say the words to me, and mom would relay my messages to her. Mom said she was too weak to speak to me, let alone hold the phone.

"I don't know how long she's got," I remembered mom's voice, almost hauntingly.

We came home a day earlier than planned so I could be with her.

I'd have doctors come in, visit her bedside. She was too weak to go to a hospital. All that they could do was alleviate the pain, but they all said she was going to die within a weak.

I laid with her at night. She slept most of the time, too weak to even open her eyes.

One special night she opened her angelic lips and told me to never stop my music. Even though she would be gone, I had to move on.

That's when it finally hit me that in a few days, she would be gone.

I got her to open her eyes the next morning only to read the words I had written out big on her tablet.

I asked her to marry me. She looked at me with those beautiful eyes and smiled for one of last times.

The next day I had gathered a few friends and family together. They were all mine. Sadly, there was still no family here to support Morgan. It's like they'd all forgotten her.

Mom had dressed her in what had been her wedding dress and she was carefully situated in a wheelchair. She tried to keep her eyes open, staring at me the whole time.

The preacher talked slow, slow enough so that Tom behind me could write out all the words on Morgan's tablet and show her.

The first ten minutes into the ceremony and everyone was crying.

Mom made spaghetti, because I loved it, and because Morgan loved it.

I fed it to Morgan, praying that she would keep it down. She needed all the nourishment she could get, but she'd been having trouble keeping food down.

That night, my wedding night, I held my wife's body in my arms. I could feel her deteriorating in my grasp. I kissed her cheek gently, crying to myself, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"Don't cry, Bill," I heard her small voice. "I can hear you."

I just started to cry more. "You can hear me?"

"I think God's given me one last gift, before he takes me."

I couldn't stop sobbing.

Her eyes slowly opened and she wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"I want you to kiss me, one last time," she whispered. "Passionately. And then I want you to sing to me."

I gave her that one last kiss, certainly the most tender, passionate kiss I'd given anyone, and then my voice cracked out 'Immer Heilig Sein,' the most soft rendition of it I've ever sang. I sang it beginning to end, twice, though she'd fallen asleep the first time through, and then I fell asleep.

She died in my arms that night.

And here, it ends. I started this keeping of my thoughts with her, and it will end with her.

Though I must seem like a pitiful soul, you have made me happy with memories of her.

I'm glad to have shared her with you.

Sincerely,
Bill Kaulitz