Songs Sparking Memories

Lilac by IU reminds me of my grandparents, but I’ve been thinking more about why certain lines stay with me the way they do. When I hear “I hope the last page of us is well written What kind of goodbye can be this perfect?” my mind goes straight to my grandfather. He had a stroke when I was a teenager. Up until then, he was incredibly active—he was literally repairing a roof the day before it happened. Seeing him confined to a hospital bed, unable to move or speak, was unbearable. He was never a man who cried, but after the stroke, I saw him cry because his body no longer worked. He loved telling stories, loved being animated and present, and watching that life drain from his eyes while he was still alive felt cruel in a way I don’t know how to fully describe. When he passed away, I felt two things at once: deep sadness and real relief. Relief that he didn’t have to suffer anymore. So when IU asks, “What kind of goodbye can be this perfect?” it doesn’t sound naïve to me—it sounds complicated in the same way grief often is. A goodbye can be painful and merciful at the same time. The line “Love me only till this spring” feels especially bittersweet. My grandfather loved me until the day he died. Spring ending feels like a metaphor for that—love that doesn’t fail, but simply reaches its natural stopping point. The season ends, not because it was lacking, but because it was complete. When the song talks about lilac flowers withering, that image feels strangely personal. Purple used to be my favorite color, but more than that, a flower withering makes me think about watching someone’s love of life slowly fade. My grandfather’s vivacity didn’t disappear all at once—it withered as his confinement took more and more from him. His body failed him, but his concern for others never did. There’s one moment I think about often. I tried to hug him while he was in bed, but because his limbs had become so rigid, I accidentally caused him pain. I immediately broke down crying. Even though he was the one hurting, I could tell—without words—that he was more worried about me than himself. I can’t fully explain how I knew. I just did. That’s what the lyric “It was the climax of our white spring days” makes me think of: the purity of love that doesn’t center itself, even at the end. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7bnOxV4jAc&list=RDv7bnOxV4jAc&start_radio=1