Don't Cry (Breric)

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~EXTREMELY SAD! Get yo tissues~

~Bruce Kulick's Point of View, 1991~

The night feels heavier than usual, like the air's pressing down on my chest. The stage lights dimming, the hum of backstage murmuring, and the low clink of metal against wood—the sound of the world continuing without us. But here I am, in the quiet chaos of the moment, feeling every inch of loss that I can't seem to escape.

I had always thought we'd have more time.

Eric's drum kit stands there, half-set up. I stare at it, the emptiness of it settling around me like a thick fog. He's gone, and there's nothing that can bring him back.

The news came too suddenly, like a bad dream that doesn't end. No matter how many times I try to replay those final days in my mind, it doesn't make sense. Eric, always so full of life, so quick with that goofy laugh of his—gone. The harsh reality of it still punches me in the gut every time I think about it.

Don't cry tonight... the song starts playing in my mind, echoing those words that had become a quiet anthem for all of us in those last months. "Don't cry, don't cry," but how could I not? We lost one of the good ones, someone who truly deserved more time.

I was there when we met. Back in the '80s, when I was just trying to find my place in this band, trying to figure out where I fit in after all the turmoil. Eric had already been with Kiss for a while when I first joined, but he was like the heart of the band. The way he played drums—it was always with such power, but with this fun, undeniable spirit. There was no one else like him. No one who could fill the space the way he did, both musically and just... as a person.

I remember the first time we got to really talk. He had a way of just cutting through the bullshit, making everything seem lighter, even when things got dark. And, man, there were dark days. But Eric was never one to get bogged down by the shadows. He'd throw that wild grin my way and say, "Hey, it's all gonna be alright. We've got this." Even when we didn't, even when the road was rough.

The band was in a strange place in '91. We were coming off the high of Hot in the Shade, and the world was shifting beneath our feet. It felt like everything was changing so fast, and none of us knew what the future would hold. But I thought we had more time.

In those final weeks, I remember him being quieter. Still smiling, still cracking his jokes, but there was something off. It's like he knew... or maybe we all did, but we didn't want to say it. Eric always had a way of knowing things before they happened. We joked about it back then. But this time, it wasn't a joke. It wasn't something we could laugh off.

I wish we had spent more time together outside of the band. I wish I had told him how much I appreciated him—how much I admired his strength, his kindness. I wish I had known how fragile everything really was. I kept thinking I'd have another chance to say it. But now, he's gone, and all I have are these damn memories, fading like the smoke from the stage lights.

The band tries to keep moving, but it's not the same without Eric. There's this hole that none of us know how to fill. We're all trying to push through it, to honor his memory by doing what we do best, but there's this weight, a sadness that hangs over everything.

Don't cry tonight, the voice in my head repeats. I hear it like a whisper on the wind. Don't cry tonight. But how could I not? How could I not feel the sting of that final goodbye? He's not coming back. And no matter how much I wish I could go back and say the things I never said, I can't.

I walk into the dressing room, sitting down with the guitar in my hands, my fingers numb against the strings. The rest of the band is scattered around, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of loss is pressing down on all of us, each in our own way. But none of us are speaking. We don't need to.

I close my eyes, trying to hold on to the memory of Eric, to the sound of his laughter, to the friendship we had. I can still hear him, clear as day: "We'll make it through, Bruce. We always do."

He was right about that. We always did. But this time, I don't know how we'll make it through without him.

I don't have the answers. I don't know what comes next.

But I do know that Eric Carr was one of the best people I ever met, and I'm lucky to have shared that time with him. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a way to carry his memory with me through all the dark nights ahead.

For him, I'll keep going. Even if it means shedding a few tears along the way.

Don't cry tonight. Maybe... but the tears come anyway. And maybe that's okay.

~Don't Cry~

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