Peter Cornell has written the following about his late brother Chris Cornell.
Brother:
5 months.
Sometimes I sit down and the keys move themselves. I find my fingers are lead thumbs tonight. There is something embedded deep that wants to be said but it detours at my heart and lodges in the hole that has taken up residence there.
I time travelled a little last weekend. Went north to the old country. There was no reason to do it except it was the next right thing. All the expected ghosts were waiting for me at SeaTac. As we drove into town I pretended I didn’t notice them, but they followed me around like I owed a debt of gratitude. The haunts man, the haunts.
Roads and freeways that I could drive in my sleep but looked askew and altered. I saw 3 bad dreams that I survived before I even glimpsed downtown. The air was cold and crisp and smelled so good. So good. I’d forgotten how the green pumps through my veins.
I saw you everywhere. How could I not? You were the king of that city. And why not? Why the fuck not. I can’t tell you it felt like my hometown. I think NYC occupies that space in my bones now, but I certainly claim my birthright to call myself Seattle-ite. When the sun shines there, well it’s a slice of God’s country.
We saw the old man. I remembered when Stern asked you if he came to you hat in hand and copped to his demons would you forgive? I filtered my visit through that barometer and it seemed like the time had come to let him go in peace. You will see him before too long I imagine. We visited your old house. I had forgotten the home you guys had forged for us all there. We were so hungry for a family hub where we could laugh at our holidays again. I choked on my new best friend emotion from the bridge to the top of the driveway. I parked on your side of the carport. I managed a pretty good game face until the last hour and surfed out of there on my own waterworks.
I’m stamped with our memories there I cling to them and keep you fresh at the front of my mind. I play that I want it to be easier, but really, pain and I go back so far that this is part of the norm that makes me feel safe. Standing in the old house and I wait for you to come around the corner. I miss you man. I miss you.
I’ll visit the old country again. You made it seem so small when you were king. 5 months and I just refuse to get used to it. REFUSE!
I’m going to visit you tomorrow. I want to tell you how your brothers stay true. After all these years they still won’t compromise what they believe in. I want to tell you about how the city has changed. Mostly good. I think you would approve. I want to tell you how my titanium bones are 99% golden and I’ve been working out again. Gettin’ swole!!
I want to tell you about your people. Your amazing people. The fans the friends the strangers and the world. They continue to touch me and humble me. I selfishly pour out my thoughts to purge myself of my own weighted nonsense. I give it to the page. And this world of humans and souls that honor your integrity and being wear their hearts on their sleeves and share the depth and sorrow and light and hope and peace and love for you. For me. For each other and the ones they hold dear and the ones THEY’VE lost. I am certainly not worthy, but I am oh so very grateful to be part of this. This living breathing tribute to my mentor. My hero. My Brother.
I want to tell you not to worry anymore. I’ll make you proud!
Goodnight CJ!
