This was a tough one to write especially after that gut-wrenching episode that literally broke my soul. Let me know what you think!
Deacon took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly. He slowly turned the handle of the door and stepped inside the room.
He breathed in hard, feeling like the winds had been knocked out of him and like his legs were gonna fall out from under him.
He had avoided this place ever since she'd died. There was just so much of her in it, more than any other part of the house. The music room was her sanctuary. It was her safe space. She was everywhere in here. Her records plastered on the walls, albums, old pictures, of them, the girls. He could still smell her perfume. This is where they'd given life to their album together, pouring out their hearts in the most intimate process of making music.
His guitars were in the corner. He hadn't even touched one yet. He couldn't bear to. The music. It was still too raw. If he picked up that guitar and pressed his fingers to those strings, there'd be no stopping the flood that would pour through. And he didn't have the strength to weather that storm yet, he needed to save all he had for their girls. Music had been what had gotten him through so many tough things. He didn't know how he was ever going to heal when the thing that saved him, the thing that took away his pain was causing him so much itself. He never imagined he could be too broken to write a song. Her and music were so tightly intertwined. She'd always been his muse and the idea of having to put into words this loss was damn near killing him.
He sat down on the couch. He smiled at the memory of the many make-out session that had started right here, and usually leading to more. His smile quickly faded as he tried to choke back his tears.
He got up and walked over to the record player. He needed to make himself do this. Even if he wasn't ready. The tribute was tomorrow and he had built up a tolerance for seeing her pictures, her smiling, her eyes shining, and feeling his heart tear up into pieces. But he hadn't heard her yet. He hadn't heard her sweet, sweet voice. He'd stayed away from the tribute videos and old home movies. But tomorrow, there was bound to be something of her singing and he couldn't have the first time be in front of an entire crowd, in front of the girls.
He finally settled on her first album, the one he'd been there every step of the way for, the one that shook country music up and changed it forever. He pulled the record out from the sleeve and set it on the turn table. His hand was shaking so badly as he lowered the needle onto the spinning disc.
Her voice came through clear, crisp, sweet, and perfect and hit him in the gut like a baseball bat. He collapsed onto the floor, trying to muffle his broken sobs with a pillow. His whole entire body shook violently.
I take a breath and turn the key
I never guessed this would take all of me
One more look at what I'm leaving behind
This cloud of dust it's my goodbye
It's a long, long road to independence
But I'm leaving you for Tennessee
I've got demons riding shotgun
Telling me not to go
But what they don't know
Is I'm already gone
They say it's easier as time goes by
Why won't these tears stop falling from my eyes
Letting you go wasn't what I planned
With every mile the more I understand
It's a long, long road to independence
But I'm leaving you for Tennessee
I've got demons riding shotgun
Telling me not to go
But what they don't know
Is I'm already gone
He sat there on the floor like that till the whole side had played. He didn't have it in him to get up and turn the damn thing off. So he just laid there, in the silence that he was left in without her, because she'd been his voice. In the darkness that was around him, because she'd been his light.
He'd been right all along. Music, life, nothing meant anything without her.