I'm Unable to Listen to "All You Need Is Love"

When I came back from school, music was always filling the house. It was like a ritual. The kind of music resounding at home was the best way to know how Daddy was feeling : when he was in a good mood, we could expect him to put pop songs on, whereas rock was a sign of angst. When Daddy welcomed me, playing an instrument, it revelead sadness and vulnerability. It was like a game for me to guess what the music would be, and Daddy himself was not aware of this : it was my own little secret, my attempt to understand him. Him and the world of adults.

I remember this day. I was very excited about my little game. For two weeks, we hadn't heard of Mozart or The Clash, and dust was recovering my dad's violin. Daddy was really peaceful, and relaxed; and my mother was of course very happy. I didn't know what was going on, but it sounded great. Later, I knew that Daddy had finally found a real good job which would improve our way of life : my mother had been waiting for this for years.

But at this moment, I was still this little girl bursting with excitement : I had been wishing all day long that Daddy would play this Beatles song I loved. It was happy and joyful and it was a sign of a marvellous event happening - I hadn't heard it for months. Considering the relaxed atmosphere at home, it could well be possible to hear it that night, I thought.
When the bell eventually rang after a long day at school, my excitement had reached its peake. I ran all the way back home without any fear of being disappointed : it could simply not be. Daddy was an artist and I had inherited from him this capacity of feeling people and atmosphere.
So I stood rooted to the spot, when, opening brutally the door, a deep silence surrounded me.
Seeing Mrs Penn, our closest neighboor, coming out of our kitchen with swollen eyes just confirmed my intuition : something bad had happened.
Holding me in her arms, the fat Mrs Penn started speaking, bursting into tears : "Your daddy had an accident, honey. He's dead."
I came over to the pile of dics, took the Beatles one out and through it through the room. It broke in little black shiny pieces.
Happy moments would never happen again now.

Since this day, I'm unable to listen to "All You Need Is Love".

(February 2002)