Thank you, Kert. Music, the language of the soul, plays a crucial role in our lives.
This post makes me reflect on my dad's last days. He was a self-taught singer who, during his middle years, was invited to perform with a big band and played at local venues as well as a few out-of-state events. I believe singing was a way for my dad to process the emotional turbulence from his upbringing. He sang while doing the dishes, mowing the lawn, and, of course, in the shower until the last couple of months of his life. Yet, in the week of his passing, as he lay propped up in bed, you could hear him belting out old favorites. His voice was strong, and he remembered all the lyrics. I often think of that last week and find comfort in the memory.
What a wonderful and warm reflection, Paulette. There definitely is a soundtrack to our lives—those who can sing it loudly, and even dance to it, seem to always be the one’s who are living with the most joy. Even through the sad and hard times, right? Your dad…singing with a big band…I can imagine the scenes and rhythms.
We really do. I used to say that my favorite philosopher was Van Morrison. He helped me through the hard times and celebrated the joyous times. He still does! Oh yes, such sweet memories that grow sweeter with time. I'm so happy you and your family were able to express everything to your dad, and he to you, before he left this physical world. I remember holding my dad's gnarly old hands near the end, thinking of all the times they comforted me and others. We're blessed, you and I; not everyone has those moments.
The sound tracks of life, I graduated in 1980. Funky Town playing on the radio right after my HS graduation on the way to the after party.
Wonderful to learn more about your dad!
You and me, we think alike!
Although mine was the ‘70s
Great writing, thanks!
Someday let’s talk about multi sport high school athletes.
Multi-sport athletics! You’re talking my language there!!!
“Glory days!”
Thank you, Kert. Music, the language of the soul, plays a crucial role in our lives.
This post makes me reflect on my dad's last days. He was a self-taught singer who, during his middle years, was invited to perform with a big band and played at local venues as well as a few out-of-state events. I believe singing was a way for my dad to process the emotional turbulence from his upbringing. He sang while doing the dishes, mowing the lawn, and, of course, in the shower until the last couple of months of his life. Yet, in the week of his passing, as he lay propped up in bed, you could hear him belting out old favorites. His voice was strong, and he remembered all the lyrics. I often think of that last week and find comfort in the memory.
What a wonderful and warm reflection, Paulette. There definitely is a soundtrack to our lives—those who can sing it loudly, and even dance to it, seem to always be the one’s who are living with the most joy. Even through the sad and hard times, right? Your dad…singing with a big band…I can imagine the scenes and rhythms.
We really do. I used to say that my favorite philosopher was Van Morrison. He helped me through the hard times and celebrated the joyous times. He still does! Oh yes, such sweet memories that grow sweeter with time. I'm so happy you and your family were able to express everything to your dad, and he to you, before he left this physical world. I remember holding my dad's gnarly old hands near the end, thinking of all the times they comforted me and others. We're blessed, you and I; not everyone has those moments.