I guess the one thing that people could say about me without hesitance was that I had never been good with words and because of this I had always felt stuck. I never got to tell the people I loved just how much they meant to me. It was hard, almost impossible, to voice your emotions with words. But, as a wise man once told me, words fade. I, instead, chose to live my life day to day off of feelings.
Feelings and memories.
I remembered the loud thumping of the music reverberating in my chest.
I remembered the feeling of the lights on my skin.
I remembered the screams of the people who had spent their life savings just to see this show. Just to get a glimpse of us.
But the thing I remembered most, the best feeling in the world, is the feeling of their hands in my own as we always took our final bows; their gross sweaty hands. I remembered the slight shake in all of their palms. I knew the adrenaline was coursing through their veins like it was mine.
I remembered the warmth.
There was nothing in the world like that feeling. And I, of all people, would know that best. I experienced the best of all the world had to offer.
I had gone through my life, all 89 years of it. I knew the joy in your heart when you went to lift your wife’s veil at the altar. I knew the love that soars through your soul the moment your child is born into this world and clutches your giant finger in its tiny little hand. I knew it all.
But still, to this day, I knew there was no feeling like what I had felt those nights in my young days when I held, not just two, but eleven hands in my own.
The hands of my co-workers. My label-mates. My best friends.
Banner credit to: buxiban on tumblr