Oh the ones I often dreamt of
With the notes in my ears
And the ones I often mimicked
With the notes on my fingers

The first time I ever heard this song, it was in the background of “Grey’s Anatomy.” “Grey’s” uses amazing music; I mean the first song the show ever used was by my beloved Rilo Kiley, so for me to notice a specific song in that show, takes a lot.

But there it was. The scene was amazing, and I was sobbing. And still, this song stood out. At the time, I didn’t know what the song was; I just knew that I was haunted. And I was emotionally involved, and that scene drew out every bit of feeling I had in that particular time, and I cried till I had no more tears. The scene, and the song, made me feel more raw than I had felt in years.

Turned out that the song was “With the Notes In My Ears” by Peter Broderick. At the time I first heard it, nothing could have meant more. Every emotional pore in my body was drained by all of it.

And my bed is on the floor
Yes my bed is on the floor
Of one of the ones I often dreamt of
With the notes in my ears

That was a little less than two months ago.

I kept listening to this song, throughout the past month or so. I needed it, somehow. To hear it, to feel it. To remember. To understand.

I didn’t understand:

And that’s why I know that I can say
I’m lucky today

I didn’t understand that at all. How could such a sad sounding song, a song that was a part of such a heartwrenching scene on TV, and such a heartwrenching time in my life, have anything to do with being lucky?

Never mind. It was a beautiful song. So I played it masochistically almost every day in the weeks following. The first several times I heard it on my personal life-mix CD, it tore me apart. The other songs even when they were sad, were okay. I was okay.

But “With the Notes In My Ears” made me fall down, on the bed, on the floor – wherever I was when I heard it, I broke to the power of the sadness that the song made me feel.

Yet I’d try to get up, to be strong when I heard:

And that’s how I know that it’s time
to be brave

Mostly though, it was too hard, to get up, to be brave. The song just does something to me. And that was okay. This was the song that would always make me feel devastated. And that holds its own kind of beauty. Sometimes I just need to feel torn apart. For perspective.

And I expected this song to tear me apart for the rest of my life. But/so, I kept listening to it.

Last week, I listened to it again.

And that’s why I know that I can say
I’m lucky today

It didn’t make me cry, this time. It made me sad. But I got it. Because the notes were still in my ears, and they were the same notes, but they were in my ears differently this time.

And that’s how I knew that it was time to be brave.

Because I’m lucky today.

To be alive. To feel. To have felt. And to get to almost two months later and feel all of it, with some bit of perspective. To have the notes stay the same, but fall differently in my ears. Same notes, same ears. But this time accompanied by time, which may not heal all wounds, but sure does a remarkable time trying.