Hot Mulligan | Heem Wasn’t There
Sometimes a song just passes you by. Sure, it can be a “good” song, but it may otherwise seem unremarkable. That is until you experience it again with a new perspective.
My partner, who works with people much more often than I do, told me a story of a groom’s best man/best friend passing before the wedding date and his ensuing state of desolation as the bride to be was suffering her own turmoil knowing that her fiancée’s heart was broken. Now I can’t help but think of the groom every time I hear this song. Under these horrible circumstances, I understood what made this song of grief so special and devastating.
The song begins by pondering the longstanding uncertainty if life after death exists. “I don’t know what comes next…” Whether it exists or not, the protagonist doesn’t seem to care and they are passing the days by drinking and mourning a loss in their life. They ruminate on the idea of changing places with the deceased and acknowledge the endless cycle of grief they are enduring.
The second half of the song begins with the same six words as the first but considers a future implying that maybe, just maybe, the protagonist is in the process of acceptance and moving forward. Just as that seems like a real possibility, they have a change of heart and either consciously or subconsciously, choose to stay emotionally put. At this time, vocalist Nathan “Tades” Sanville sings louder, his voice more impassioned signifying that the protagonist’s depressive and grief filled disposition is being further cemented. “I’ll never stray from the place where you still feel alive to me…”
Even the small flame of hope from Chorus A seems to be extinguished in the slightly altered Chorus B. The lyrics “I don’t think there’s a god who can love you as much as me…” change to “I know there isn’t a god who could love you as much as me…”, another instance of their dejected emotional groove becoming deeper. This song has no resolve, solutions, or happy ending. It begins sad and ends sadder.
Yet, somehow this song became the go-to song I sang to my then infant daughter at any given moment. She absolutely lights up once I start and seems captivated, as if she were following along and hanging on every word. She doesn’t yet understand the depths of despair we are capable of feeling - the depths the protagonist is uncomfortably treading ad infinitum. She’s not yet capable of experiencing the true empathetic connection that life can make us feel. From her perspective, it is just an unremarkable song her daddy likes to sing. To me, Heem Wasn’t There has become an equally effective and efficient lesson in empathy.
