Learning To Jump Again: The Songs ("No One Tells You")

Some of you have read my self-published book Learning To Jump Again, which started as a personal journal of grief after my father died. I eventually made it public in hopes that it could help others as they grieve the loss of a loved one. 

Within that book were some poems, for better or worse.

When my friend Avery introduced me to the AI music-making website Suno, those poems definitely changed for the better.

I altered some of the language of the original poems to get a more singable cadence; in some, I added a chorus. In the process, I tried to find a soundtrack that matched the mood in my head. 

Here is the second one (the first one is here). You can listen to all of them if you find an online music platform like Spotify or Apple Music and follow a band called The Long Repair (hint: it's me).

What follows is the updated poem/lyrics, followed by a link to Suno if you care to listen.

No One Tells You

No one tells you that the viewing
Cuts deeper than the grave,
You dread it like the darkness,
But it’s the moment that you crave.
You walk in feelin’ empty,
But it’s also the place that you’re brave.

No one tells you that the faces
Say words that sound so kind,
But they float like smoke and vanish,
They don’t ease your troubled mind.
Your daddy is silent and cold
And it burns your soul inside.

No one tells you, no one tells you,
What this pain will really do.
No one tells you, no one tells you,
How the grief comes crashin’ through.
You can’t touch him, can’t embrace him,
And the blues just pour from you.

No one tells you ‘bout the moment,
You must lay him in the ground,
How six feet feels like miles,
And the world don’t make a sound.
You walk away still fallin’,
‘Cause your grief knows no bound.

You know the funeral’s over,
But the hurt has just begun,
The days get long and lonely,
When the crowded days are done.
You pray into the silence,
And you wonder if you reach anyone.

And one day when you're drivin’,
And the sun cuts through the haze,
He’s sittin’ right there beside you,
As if he'd moved in to this place.
You pull over just to breathe again,
And let your heart hold space.

No one tells you, no one tells you,
‘Bout the tears you can’t outrun.
No one tells you, no one tells you,
Grief’s a weight that won’t be done.
And in the ache and in the memory,

You just have to let the tears run

You just have to let the tears run.

https://suno.com/s/61VzVJli0rLvOJiy

Learning To Jump Again: The Songs ("My Father Just Shriveled")

Some of you - tens, even - have read my self-published book Learning To Jump Again, which started as a personal journal of grief after my father died. I eventually made it public in hopes that it could help others as they grieve the loss of a loved one. 

Within that book were some poems, for better or worse.

When my friend Avery introduced me to the AI music-making website Suno, those poems changed for the better. Over time, I altered some of the language of the original poems to get a more singable cadence; in some, I added a chorus. In the process, I tried to find a soundtrack that matched the mood in my head. 

Here is the first one. (Click on these links for the second, the third, the fourth, fifth and sixth.) You can listen to all of them if you find an online music platform like Spotify or Apple Music and follow a band called The Long Repair (hint: it's me).

I was at an aunt and uncle's house one holiday when I wrote this. It was at the end of a day of being with family, and I missed him so much, and this is just where I was at that moment. It's not hopeful - I have other songs that will get there - but it was honest, and I think God is fan of honesty, and big enough to handle my despair.

 First, the updated poem/lyrics; second, a link to Suno if you care to listen.

My Father Just Shriveled

My father just shriveled, dried up in his bed.
With my tears I watered the grave of the dead.
Then I staggered back home,
A few miles too far
from a father who loved me,
And who was not anymore.

Oh, death just keeps taking and stealing—
unrelenting and terribly bold.
I’ve been begging the sky for mercy,
But the heavens stay quiet and cold.
If grief is a river I’m drowning,
where does a broken man go?

Now my life’s stream is stagnant, losing its flow.
The source has dried up—how was I to know?
A wraith with a sickle stole my peace and my love,
And no water replenishes me from above.

Oh, death just keeps taking and stealing—
unrelenting and terribly bold.
I’ve been begging the sky for mercy,
But the heavens stay quiet and cold.
If grief is a river I’m drowning,
Where does a broken man go?

If death weren’t so sneaky, we’d meet, he and I
If death weren’t so cold, I would greet him.
If death could stop haunting our stories and songs,
We would not have to think of him quite so damn long.
But death is a robber who aims for our souls;
Our lives he despises while grief rivers roll.
He’s cold in his heart, And as fierce as a fire—
and he constantly robs us of those we desire
To stay,
And to live,
And to love.

Oh, death just keeps taking and stealing—
unrelenting and terribly bold.
I’ve been begging the sky for mercy,
But the heavens stay quiet and cold.
If grief is a river I’m drowning,
Tell me—where does a broken man go?
Where does a broken man go?

The Song: https://suno.com/s/91204PbTUXUhx1l3