I remember when I was a ladTimes were hard and things were badBut there's a silver linin' behind every cloudJust poor people, that 's all we wereTryin' to make a living out of black-land dirtBut we'd get together in a family circle singing loud
Daddy sang bass, mama sang tenorMe and little brother would join right in thereSinging seems to help a troubled soulOne of these days and it won't be longI'll rejoin them in a songI'm gonna join the family circle at the throne
No, the circle won't be brokenBy and by, Lord, by and byDaddy sang bass, mama sang tenorMe and little brother would join right in thereIn the sky, Lord, in the sky
Now I remember after work, mama would call in all of usYou could hear us singing for a country mileNow little brother has done gone onBut I'll rejoin him in a songWe'll be together again up yonder in a little while
Daddy sang bass, mama sang tenorMe and little brother would join right in there'Cause singing seems to help a troubled soulOne of these days and it won't be longI'll rejoin them in a songI'm gonna join the family circle at the throne
Oh no, the circle won't be brokenBy and by, Lord, by and byDaddy sang bass, mama sang tenorMe and little brother would join right in thereIn the sky, Lord, in the skyIn the sky, Lord, in the sky
Sorry, kinda, to display the entire lyrics without me throwing in something goofy, but, figured it'd be best to get to the point.
Christmas, especially, is a reminder to the above - loss, wonderful voices no longer audible here.. only in our recall.
I think we've all been touched by death, loss. Touched (sorry to cuss) is a really shitty word.. maybe better choice(s)... shocked... overhwelmed.. dumbfounded.. . shattered., crushed... etc.
I'm in Johnny's shoes in that both parents and a sibling are gone... Selfishly, it is, can be a sad time. I bow in prayer to my friends who have lost children, grandchildren, mates... I cannot fathom walking in your shoes.
Christmas is a hurt good time in memory. Sure, throughout the year, and really throughout life, our eyes focus on the ones gone - but, Christmas tends to accentuate, lift those angels to the top of the tree. A gift to us without having to wrap or unwrap it. No clutter - just simply wonderful memories of 'then'.
We've all witnessed horrific things happening to friends, loved one's brains, memory. That too, being unable to so distinctly remember my/our own immediate family seems unfathomable. I guess if I/we reach that point, it then wouldn't matter.
Until then....... close or open your eyes, remember the looks, the voice, where they generally sat, the kinds of things they wore.. their smiles.. laughter... bright, beautiful eyes.. keep 'em going in the scrapbook of the brain.
Love, Victurd
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