It’s gonna be five years on the 28. I have so many reasons to hate that date but so many reasons not to. The date is just a number anyway.
Danny, I can’t believe it’s five years, and it feels like it was just yesterday that we were kids.
Remember that we had so little? Yet everything meant so much. I remember that broken down walkman that kept us awake when everyone one else went to sleep.
Rap. Who would have thought that a few cassettes over the Christmas holidays would turn into a lifetime passion?
Those tapes saved us didn’t it? I mean we put it on, we turned off the lights and we were no longer on that thin mattress, under that fan, we were transported to somewhere much cooler, somewhere worthwhile, somewhere magical and somewhere we belong.
When we put the songs on, your eyes sparkled, your smile drawn, laughter would soon follow, sometimes laughter that woke people up, because you had that loud laugh.
Those late night earphone sessions saved us. It saved us from mediocrity and a place we just didn’t deserve to be at.
And so sometimes at night, I put music on, as tribute to our time, tribute to us, tribute to you. You made my childhood mean so much more, and it hurts me everyday that you are gone.
People may not understand the late night music to sleep. They might not like it, but they will never stop it. That is ours.
So tonight, in your memory, I’ll meet you in some rhymes, in some beats and in some crazy vibin.
Peace out Danny boy, you are missed each day, everyday.