Episode 24: When Words Fail, Music Speaks
Music - "My Wild Irish Rose" by Chauncey Olcott, Arranged and Performed by Jessica Roemischer
Subscribe on Apple Podcasts & Stitcher
Subscribe on Apple Podcasts & Stitcher
My daddy and me, 1962
I woke up on this sunny morning here in the southern hemisphere thinking of my dad, my dear dad who passed just a few months ago. And I was overwhelmed with a deep grief, that he isn't here with me anymore in the way he was. And what came to me was the love he had for me, and for music, and for the music I played especially for him.
So I was inspired to listen to music I'd created for his 85th birthday, just three years ago--a special CD for my daddy. And as I did, I sensed him listening to it, too. I listened particularly to a beautiful song called, "My Wild Irish Rose." He loved these old-time melodies. That's why I chose those songs to record especially for him, and I recalled how he said, as he opened the CD I'd made for him and listened, that it was the best gift he had ever received. Ever.
So this morning, as I played the music I'd made for him three years ago, I thought of that ephemeral place between this life and the next, between this embodied life and the feeling of those loved and now in that blessed world beyond the here and now. And in all of this, I felt how when someone passes and they're no longer physically in your life, you're called to let go, to allow yourself to sense their presence in a different way. But that's not easy.
And in all of these contemplations this morning, I felt such grief and poignancy and love...and as I sensed all this, it really seemed to me, like these experiences and feelings are so essential to the human experience--this grief and love--it's something we share no matter our differences. There's a reailty that's deeper than the differences that distinguish us, and what moved me to tears this morning, was also that essential truth.
So I was inspired to listen to music I'd created for his 85th birthday, just three years ago--a special CD for my daddy. And as I did, I sensed him listening to it, too. I listened particularly to a beautiful song called, "My Wild Irish Rose." He loved these old-time melodies. That's why I chose those songs to record especially for him, and I recalled how he said, as he opened the CD I'd made for him and listened, that it was the best gift he had ever received. Ever.
So this morning, as I played the music I'd made for him three years ago, I thought of that ephemeral place between this life and the next, between this embodied life and the feeling of those loved and now in that blessed world beyond the here and now. And in all of this, I felt how when someone passes and they're no longer physically in your life, you're called to let go, to allow yourself to sense their presence in a different way. But that's not easy.
And in all of these contemplations this morning, I felt such grief and poignancy and love...and as I sensed all this, it really seemed to me, like these experiences and feelings are so essential to the human experience--this grief and love--it's something we share no matter our differences. There's a reailty that's deeper than the differences that distinguish us, and what moved me to tears this morning, was also that essential truth.