Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. At four years old, I was started singing in our church’s children’s choir. At seven, I started piano lessons. In middle school, band was added to the agenda, and in High School I added singing competitively and musicals to a world I loved.
In truth, music was my outlet. It was how I worked through my emotions. As a teenager, I would play out my emotional highs and lows on the piano, and as an adult, I would utilize either the piano or singing. Whatever I was feeling, music was a safe place to express myself.
This love for music extended into my adult life. My kids and music were my life. I taught music in a small parochial school, directed show choirs, directed childrens’ choirs, sang in adult choirs, was a member of the Director’s Guild, sang as cantor at our church and taught voice and piano lessons.
When Bruce and I married, I moved to Michigan. This meant a change in my job, but singing was still a major part of my life. Music was so much a part of who I was that I could not imagine a day without it.
Then Bruce died and the light in my world went dark… I stopped playing piano. I stopped singing. It was as if my music was gone, too. My poor parents tried many times to convince me that I just needed to try. They tried to remind me how much music had helped me in the past, but I couldn’t…
I don’t mean I wouldn’t… I mean I couldn’t – really and truly, physically couldn’t. I would try to turn on the radio and just sing along but nothing would come out… except tears. I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone including myself. (Evidently, this is a common response to stress, but I didn’t know that at the time.)
Whenever someone would bring it up, I would respond, “I don’t sing anymore – not since Bruce died,” and leave it at that. I also tried playing piano but that usually just ended in a crying session. After a while, I just accepted that this was one of those changes I needed to accept… Bruce was gone. My music was gone. I just needed to move on with my life.
After a few months, I learned to use other creative outlets for my grief, such as painting or gardening. These were quiet endeavors that allowed me to get lost inside my own head… I’m not sure – perhaps I am over-analyzing it, but I think I was struggling so hard to keep from falling completely apart that I needed the outlet to be quiet… controlled, if you will. That way I could keep myself together and not “go off the deep end.”
I remember about a year after Bruce passed away, I opened a fortune cookie and it read, “You have music inside you. Let it out.” I remember smiling and thinking, “Not yet… I’m not ready.” A few months later I was listening to Wayne Dyer when he said, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” (Yes, I am aware that he was referring to one’s life purpose, but it really struck home with me.)
That lasted for almost two years… Two years of no songs… just silence. Until…
Until last Christmas, when I decided to participate in Christmas again. As I wrote recently, one of the first things that triggered the Christmas season for me in the past was playing the first Christmas music of the year on Thanksgiving Day. I spent last Thanksgiving with one of my daughters, her husband and my grandson, and true to tradition, they did the same.
At first I cringed a little bit… I wasn’t sure how to respond until I heard a sweet child’s voice. My little Bubba singing as loud as he could and filled with more joy than I could imagine.
I smiled, said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, opened my mouth and… (wait for it….) sang along. : ) In fact, we all sang all weekend. I even sang all the way home. I don’t know how to explain how victorious it felt to be able to sing and express myself again in a way that is pure joy and fun for me.
This year, my life has taken a completely new direction. As I have moved more and more into the life coaching realm, I know without a doubt my life’s purpose now is one of serving and helping others. While I don’t feel called to make music the central focus of my life again, having it back in my life gives me a fun outlet that feels like an old familiar friend.
I, also, know that my creativity helps me approach life in a more positive way… and all because of the sweet innocence and love of a child.
When we lose someone, our lives change drastically. Did you feel you lost something that had been an integral part of who you were? What did you do? Would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.*
Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.
This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief
* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.
