Be Still My Heart

Ich fang ein bild von dir. (1)

Her blonde hair was ruffled by a rustling wind as she stood alone in the cemetery, looking into the eyes of the demon she loved; one only she could see. The sun shined on her pink lips, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Her hands were clasped together and held to her chest, emotion welling up easily inside her at the simple thought of him. Bright blue eyes, with the smallest flecks of red in the right one, glistened with tears. She slowly turned and went back to her car, her hand hesitating on the handle before opening it. With another look at him the tears stopped, and with a soft smile she got into the car.

Und schließ die augen zu.

It had been seven years since they laid her grandfather in the ground, and four since her brother had gone to rest beside him. She had long since stopped going to the cemetery daily, but she would still go on days like today. Days like father's day. Her hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel as memories flooded through her mind. She could clearly see her grandfather standing there with the video camera, a smile on his face as he watched her playing on the small jungle gym at the zoo. She could feel the wet sand beneath her bottom as he pushed her in the wheelbarrow to the back side of the house from the truck. She could see him, camera in hand yet again, as she showed off her newly found talent at riding a bike with no training wheels. Even the way he would touch her and say "got ya" before she would get out of the van for school in the mornings, and how she would always touch him and say "got ya last!" before running off came clearly to her mind.

Dann sind die räume nicht mehr leer.

She weaved slightly on the road as tears and memories blurred her vision again. She let the word fall softly from her lips in a whisper she could hardly hear "grandpa…" It took her nearly an hour to drive from Santa Barbara to Goleta because of all the traffic, and her own distractions from the road. Once she finally got to the small garage converted into a studio apartment that was her home she just sat in the car. She stared at the wheel in front of her and began speaking as tears flowed freely.

Lass alles andere einfach ruhen.

"Why did it have to be you, Grandpa?" After a moment she got out of the car and went to the door. She slammed her fist on the front door "Why couldn't you have been my father? Why did it have to be Greg?" The tears had stopped as suddenly as they came. She fumbled with her keys and jammed them into the lock. After banging the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath and then smiled looking over at her plump little dog as she took off her boots.

Ich fang ein bild von dir.

"Hi B! How's my noble doing?" She went over and petted him, the fat dog's tail wagging happily to see his best friend again. "Oh sholey! Wabo!" she cooed at him in her own nonsensical language for several minutes before going over to sit at her computer.

Und dieser eine augenblick.

Soft music filled the small apartment, skipping as she searched for the song that would inspire her most at the moment. Eventually she settled for An Deiner Seite by Unheilig, the deep sound of German voices soothing her soul. She pretended to play along with the song on an invisible piano, the fingers of her left hand making sure movements while the ones on her right struggled to be as precise, as the pen of her tablet kept getting in the way. Her voice slowly reached a crescendo as she sang with the music.

Bleibt mein gedanklicher besitz.

She closed her eyes as the music played, her hand opening Photoshop from memory. After ten minutes of opening file after file of old drawings and rough sketches, she opened a blank canvas. Her mind easily recalled her dream of the night before, and her hand began to sketch out the image of the man in it. The sketch came easy, her pen moving to make the familiar lines of his face and body, her mind already starting to fill in the colors. After dreaming of the demon Yume every night for eight years she knew each line of his being from memory. She paused and looked around her room at the drawings of him that hung on the wall as Stirb Nicht Vor Mir (2) came onto her iTunes. A smile crossed her lips and she looked over at the invisible dream man on her bed "Yume Sama, it's our song!" The pen clicked as she set it down to focus on the song, her hands dancing through the air while her voice flowed easily around the German words, and switched just as easily back to the English. "He comes to me every night," she sings, looking at Yume again and smiling more broadly.

Den kriegt der himmel nicht zurück.

The fading light of the sun started to make the room dark, but she did not seem to notice as her mind was set on coloring in the image on her computer screen. The red and purple hair of Yume shined against the dark color in the background as she colored in his skin. She worked late into the night; vibrant yellow-orange eyes, dark clothing, a dark background, red clouds, large wings, the blood formed scythe, all had to be colored perfectly before she could be happy; an obsession spawned from the long hours of spent locked in her room by the several abusive "fathers" she had known. As the morning sun started to come through her blinds, she took one last look at her drawing before signing it; Natalie Goldsmith.

Du kamst zu mir.