The Last Day

You know that moment when you have a new album that you've listened to a few times, then you put it on and for whatever reason that's the time that you really HEAR it? It's sort of the 'breakthrough listen', if you will, where you fully absorb it and get it.

When I had my 'breakthrough listen' with Plans, What Sara Said was the song that really resonated with me. It paints the picture of being in a hospital where someone you care is- and you're about to lose them. It brought one strong memory to mind that I just couldn't shake while listening to it; the last time I visited my mom at the hospital before she died.

I was sixteen, and my little sister was thirteen. We had known she was terminal for about six months, and she had suddenly made a harsh decline in the final month. When we got to her floor, you had to walk through two sets of sliding glass doors that made a vacuum seal sound when you passed through the middle- this was to keep foreign germs from permeating- no one on this floor could handle it.

In her room, she was laying back, eyes closed. She had been heavily sedated because of her pain, but they lightened her dosage so that she could be semi-conscious when we arrived. She looked as though she had large, bright purple bruises all over body, which was apparently the side effect of something. Her lips were so dry. There was a little green sponge on a stick that looked like a lollipop. I had to dip it in a cup of water and run it over her lips to moisturize them for her, since she could not do it herself. She moaned and murmered that she loved us. I took her hand in mine, which was thin and weak. I simply said, "I love you, Mom," firmly and with conviction. And that was that.

The feelings and the visuals from that day course through me every time I hear that song, listen to its lyrics, feel its music. It will always and forever evoke that in me.

"Love is watching someone die"