Tag Archives: journal entries

Let It Be

In creative writing class last Thursday, we were to print out our favorite song and talk about why we like it. Then we were to talk about the imagery in the song, who wrote it, what it’s about.

One of my favorite songs is by The Beatles, Let It Be. It is written by Paul McCartney. In the song he talks about Mother Mary, people think that he is talking about the Virgin Mary, but he isn’t, he is talking about his actual mother whose name was Mary (Paul’s mother, Mary, died when he was 14).

The song was written in 1967, an era of war. The Vietnam War was going on during that time, the troubles in Northern Ireland, fighting between Israel and Palestine.

It’s a song of sadness; Paul is seeing all the fighting and hatred and wishing for peace. When you can’t do much to help, you’ll just have to ‘Let It Be’.

Let It Be was also the last song The Beatles recorded together as a band; they break up a few years later.

Journal Entry #3

Last Thursday in creative writing class, we were given a journal entry to fill a page with images that appeals to the senses that work to reveal an abstraction. Abstractions are things like love, joy, grief, sadness, disgrace, horror, tenderness, beauty. In the last sentence we are to reveal our abstraction.

Here is what I wrote.

Journal Entry #3

I talk to you, but I receive no verbal answer. I’m used to it now. I miss hearing your voice. I do know you hear me; the small clues you leave for us to find, to let us know you’re here.

I walk into your office here at home, searching for a plain white envelope, but cannot find any. I only find the envelopes with your old work address on them. I smile then laugh out loud at how you’ve always kept everything; old match books, postcards, even your log books from every place you’ve stopped at dating back from the first time you started driving a truck.

I start pulling your desk drawers open, still searching for a plain white envelope. Finally, I pause, then smile and ask out loud, “Can you please tell me where I may find a plain envelope? I need one without your old address printed on them.” I received an answer, tough it was with silence. I got a vision of two boxes of envelopes, sitting on a shelf above the computer. I turn around and there they were, exactly what I was looking for. “Thank you Grandpa,” I say out loud.

Grandma and I visited you today, but I still cannot talk to you like that. I look at the cold, pink stone that bares your name and I’m shaken by the thought. My mind still doesn’t want to absorb this. Tears began welling up in my eyes as I took a few steps back. I don’t know why I can talk to you at home, but cannot talk to you there. Maybe it’s just too much of a reality for me.

I watched grandma talk to you. I tried not to listen. Instead, I dried my eyes and walked around visiting with other relatives. I get lost in the quietness of that place, where everyone is resting peacefully. People tell me that time heals the pain of losing someone. It’s been two years and four months and I still grieve for you.