A Song That Leaves Me In Tears

I can't explain it, but I'm going to try. Every time I hear this song I begin to weep.

It's just so damn tragic. Freddy Mercury was one of the most beautiful men of the last century. If you listen to the song in light of the fate that awaited Mercury, it's enough to make the strongest man with a shred of compassion buckle.

This song does not make me feel hopeless, it's not that it brings me to despair, it only allows me to feel that which I keep bottled up; that which, as vulnerable as I can be, I do not allow anyone else to see.

I think the first thing that grabs me by the soul is the crying out to "mama". If I couldn't explain it in six years of counseling then I don't know if I can explain it now, but I'll sure as hell try.

Upon further reflection, I believe I can explain it, I'm just not yet willing to do so in my blog; but I will share a memory I have with my own mother that interconnects to Mercury's crying out. Actually, I'll share two stories (forgive the inner dialogue, I can't always get the words out of my head the way I want to).

The story begins when I was in my senior year of high school. In the month of January I wrecked my truck. Consequently, I lost my job as a delivery boy. I got a new job as a mechanic, which is what I was going to school for at the time. It was walking distance from my house, so everything seemed like it was going to be okay for awhile.

A few days later, my girlfriend broke up with me, which left me absolutely crushed. What was worse was that she did it on a Friday night at a weekend long youth retreat. It rained the entire weekend, I had to spend the weekend inside with the girl who had just dumped me. It sounds so dramatic to say now but this brought me to the brink. 

A few days after getting dumped, I got fired from my new job. My new boss explained to me the last hour of my shift that perhaps I'd be better suited for doing factory work than working as a mechanic where I'd have to use my brain.

For those of you who were lost in the detail, here is the abridged version:

• Wrecked my truck
• Lost my job
• Got new job
• Girlfriend left
• Lost my new job

And all this happened within two weeks...

And so began the months of hell. I did not eat for days at a time, I did not talk to anyone unless I had to, and then it was only to give enough of a response so that they'd leave me alone. I already hate January-March, but that winter was black and dark and hopeless. 

I'll never forget one night, as I was lying in bed unable to fall asleep, hoping that tomorrow wouldn't come, my mother came into my room and she sat down on the edge of my bed. I can't remember if she said anything, but her actions communicated more than her words could. It was enough that she was just there. For that brief moment I was not alone. For that brief moment I knew that I was not unloved.

Another time was at my wedding. During the mother - son dance, my mother looked at me and said "I'm so proud of you." Suddenly it was like all the puzzle pieces snapped together and formed a complete picture. My entire life I had felt hated by her. I know now that she didn't feel that way, but when I look back on my life I see the small boy who wanted to make mom happy; but mom was never happy. The small boy could not figure out why mom was never happy with him, but I knew in that moment when I heard those words from my mom that she was pleased with me.

While I was growing up, my mother's own heart was heavy with the burdens that she was carrying. She was abused and abandoned by the men in her life that were supposed to love and care for her (with the exception of her current husband who treats her very well). She was left by these very same men. She got along as best she could, and I know now that she loved that small boy the best way she knew how. I guess I feel a little bit embarrassed about this fact, but I wept in my mothers arms while we danced together, realizing that she was there. She was there, in that moment, and that's all that mattered.

"Mamma, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away"

This strikes me hard for two reasons. First, I think back on moments when I wanted to die. I felt like a failure who was unloved and unwanted. His words are my words in those moments... in those memories.

But in Mercury's case, and I'm speculating here, he knew he was dying (or at least that he was going to). He knew he had contracted AIDS, and in light of that context the rest of the song is beautiful and macabre.

"Mama, I didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on. But nothing really matters."

The finality of death, and I have thought enough about it in my brief time on earth to have an opinion, renders all things meaningless. In rendering things meaningless, the weight that looms so heavily upon the mind is alleviated. How can I disappoint if I am not? What does it matter if they do not love me? What does it matter if I have lost my job? Others can resume their lives without the burden of me any longer. 

"Goodbye everybody, I've got to go. Got to leave you all behind and face the truth. Mama, I don't want to die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all."

Listen to the rest of the song, keeping in mind the plight that awaited Freddie in the years to come.

"Carry on, carry on. Nothing really matters."

There is one last thing that grieves me just as deeply when I hear this song. I know Mercury lived a very private life. I think about what it must have been like in that time to be suffering with AIDS, and to catch wind of American Evangelicals who were telling the homosexual community that AIDS was the penalty they were receiving "in themselves" for their abomination. Take a look at John MacArthur's study bible commentary on Romans 1 if you don't believe me.

It grieves me that we would have the audacity to tell people it was their fault that they were dying a death that no one could understand or prevent.   To tell someone this while in the midst of their sexual identity becoming known to their families and surrounding communities, which often times resulted in painful rejection and abandonment, is more tragic than any Shakespearean play.