Boy's Normal by Daniel Brouns

On October 24th, 2015 my Mom, Brenda Marie Brouns, died. I can immediately go back to the imagery of the 24 hour period surrounding my Mom's death. From the moment I got the call from Dad, saying Mom may not make it through the night, which brought me to tears and to the floor of a grimy hallway inside a 2nd run theater. To when Chris Eshnaur, Kegan Swyers, and Nick Eshnaur drove me up to Stanford at 90 miles per hour so I could be close to her during the last hours that were available. To the moment I met my dad outside the hospital. To when he lead me to her room. To when I held her hand as she began to cry through her eyes that were swollen shut. To when my family and I all made makeshift beds out of chairs for the night. To the moment, on the following day, when the doctor told us she was going to die. To when I thought that if I cried hard enough, and if my tears landed on her, that she would be okay. To when I cried with each one of my family members. To when I cried with my best friends. To when Grammie cried, "This isn't fair...". To when everyone who was there that day surrounded her as Nate Couchman said one last prayer. To when some of us got food in the cafeteria. To when I kissed her forehead and told her that we weren't upset with her, and that she didn't "screw with our lives", which was a phrase she commonly used to apologize to us, her children.

I told her that we would be okay. I told her I love her with all my heart. And I told her that it was okay for her to go if she was ready to.

Moments later, a nurse came in and abruptly told us that she was gone. Martin, my younger brother, grabbed me and held me and said through sobbing, "She heard you man, she heard you."
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I don't know how I left the hospital that day. I wish I could've stayed and helped clean her up and move her body, and stare death in the face. To really embrace the idea that life is not meant to be lived without suffering. To not shy away from the thing that we all fear most.

I think denial hid the fact that that moment in the hospital would be the last time I would ever see her. I think denial allowed me to play basketball and laugh with my friends and family that evening.

Even though I can immediately go back to all that imagery, which makes me feel like it just happened, it also feels like a decade or more has passed since. Maybe that's the dance between denial and acceptance. Maybe I won't ever have an answer for that feeling.
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These three songs embody the different stages of grief, I think. Some denial, depression, anger, bartering, and acceptance can be found in all three.

I have a ton more I would like to say, and will continue to release more songs and continue to share, but for now, thank you to those who read all this, for listening to these songs, and for hearing my pain.
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Special thanks to Kenny Becker, Evan Chambers, Chris Eshnaur, Tyler Chester, Jett Galindo, The Bakery, science, physics, and art for helping me make this happen. Thank you, Mom, for always wanting me to follow my dreams.

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