ntang (ntang) wrote,
ntang
ntang

  • Music:

I'll be seeing you

I'll be seeing you
in all the old familiar places
that this heart of mine embraces
all day through.


There was an old victrola in the corner of the family room of our old house. It had been my nana's first, and when she died, it was one of the few things my mother took of hers. She had this collection of old records, and sometimes, every once in a while, she would take one out and play it, and sip a glass of sherry, and think of her mother.

In that small cafe,
the park across the way,
the children's carousel,
the chestnut trees,
the wishing well


My nana passed away when I was still a little boy. I don't remember her well, but I remember her face, and her voice. I remember the wig she wore. I remember going to spend the weekend at her place, at the little toys or gifts she'd give me, the way we'd sit on her bed and watch tv past my bedtime. Her house was in Brooklyn, it was where my mother had grown up. It had a staircase, and red wallpaper I think. I don't remember much about it.

I'll be seeing you
in every lovely summer's day
in every thing that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way.


When I was little, sometimes my mother would sing to me. Sometimes she's sing happy, bouncy songs, and sometimes more wistful songs. She'd sing to me sometimes when I was upset or sick, when I needed the comfort. She'd run her hands gently over my hair and sing quietly to me as I lay in bed and somehow it would make things better. I guess the song she'd sing the most was probably "You are my sunshine" but I remember her singing "I'll be seeing you" to me as well. Whether I was crying or sick or had a nightmare or was just lonely, it always made it better.

I'll find you in the morning sun
and when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
but I'll be seeing you.


I was at my nana's burial after she died. It was in a big cemetery, with a lot of trees and green all over. I guess it was in Brooklyn somewhere. Everyone was wearing black and was somber. There was a hearse. I remember when my nana died, my mother cried, and cried, and cried. She didn't have anyone to sing to her and make it better.

I'll be seeing you
in every lovely summer's day
in every thing that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way.


I've been crying, thinking of her and of my nana and listening to this, and knowing that my sons might never have that. I'm there as much as I can be for them, and I comfort them as well as I can, but I'm not a mommy. I don't even know that their mommy could be a mommy to them that way. Sometimes, when one of them is upset and crying, I'll just hold them and softly sing to them. I hope it makes it all better for them.

I'll find you in the morning sun
and when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
but I'll be seeing you.
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