Music

Music was a huge part of my Nana's life. She sang in the choir, multiple chorals, and played piano. Whenever I saw her, she was humming something or singing something. And, with good reason. She was a spectacular vocalist. I looked forward to going to church with her because whenever we did, I got to hear her beautiful voice. Everyone loved it. The entire congregation came to hear her voice.

The connection between music and my Nana wasn't just in her time physically here. When my mom, my grandfather, my aunts, uncles, and I were planning the funeral together, I was in charge (in part) of music. It was a daunting task, but maybe they all figured that I would know what to do being a musician myself. They were mistaken. I surfed her Pandora account, her iPad, her (ancient) computer, and the hymnal that she had. I found all the songs I could and the best ones were played at her memorial service. The playlist included the Hallelujah Chorus (her favorite song of all time) and Jesu, Joy of Men's Desiring. I didn't know if she liked Jesu, but I figured it was happy and praising the Lord, therefore it's something she would want. The weird part comes next.

I never thought when planning to check the piano for songs to play. Now it seems so obvious, but when I was caught in the moment, I didn't even think of it. However, a day after the service when I stuck around at my Grandfather's to keep him company and help start to sort away belongings and paperwork (which is an entirely different story) I decided to play piano. The piano was completely wonderful. It was perfectly tuned even though I don't believe she had played in a while. It filled the room it was put in with sound and, for the first time since that awful night, I felt free. Scratch that. I remember feeling freer that I had ever when playing music. However, I opened up the song book on her piano and there was a rusty, old paper clip marking a spot. I opened it and, as I recall, the song was Jesu, Joy of Men's Desiring. Attached to the paper clip marking the music was a little scrap of paper in her handwriting that said, "Love."

In that moment, I knew that she was there with me. I had been fretting about whether everything was the way she would have liked it. Apparently she didn't just "like" it. She loved it. She loved us and continues to love us and wants us to love others. That's the way I interpret that little scrap of paper.

I feel a strong connection to my Nana and music now. I've never considered myself particularly amazing at any of the instruments I play: violin, vocals, piano, cello, guitar... I'm mediocre at best. However, it feels as though, now that she is in that far place, all of my music skills have been heightened. My Nana was such a giving person that it is entirely possible that she gave a little bit of something away to everyone when she passed. I hope that I got her love and talent for music. I'd love to have that part of her.

I took to writing songs long before August 29th, 2012, but they were always just normal every day songs about life and what was going on at the moment. However, now, I feel like I can't sit down at a piano without making a song that has to do with her or the pain I feel. I know she wouldn't want that: that my music is now based around her, but just as I know she wouldn't want me to be sad yet I still weep terribly for my dear friend, when I sit down at the bench all I can think of is her.

Tonight was especially hard. I sat down at the piano to play a song I've been working on for a while, but instead all that came out were raw words about her. The chords were melancholy, with a slight smile at the end, but still mostly sad. It wasn't two minutes at the piano before the words turned to choked up whispers, to tears, to a full-on break down. I didn't mean to. I've been good lately about keeping my chin up (comparatively, that is.) I don't know what it is about tonight. So tonight is hard.

On the bright side (Nana would want me to find one,) today I got a solo part for the Theme from Schindler's list for the BHBL High School Orchestra on my violin. She loved violin songs like that, so I hope I'm making her proud up in that far place. I hope she watches my performance. Actually, I know she wouldn't miss it for the world.