Odds and Ends

So ever since I wrote the last entry on Music to Grieve By, I think of other songs I would add to the list. Of course, I haven't been writing them down, so this will not be a complete update. But there are some songs I would like to add.

When I finished my PhD, I made a mix cd for my advisor. Ever since I started the program in one of her classes, I knew that someday I wanted to give her two songs that give thanks--Sinead O'Connor's "Thank You for Hearing Me" and Natalie Merchant's "Kind and Generous." So I had another 70 minutes to fill on the disc, and I filled it with songs that somehow reflected the dissertation/PhD experience. I listen to that cd a lot, as it turns out, and there are some songs on there that do help me in this extended grieving process. Several are from Patty Griffin's Children Running Through cd, especially "I Don't Ever Give Up," "No Bad News," and "Up to the Mountain (MLK song)."

I also find helpful two songs in particular (there are so many to choose from) from Amasong, a lesbian/feminist chorus from Champaign/Urbana that my former college roommate belongs to. They do a lot of folk and spiritual music from a variety of cultures. The two songs I turn to most often (though only one is on my mix cd) are "I Cannot Keep from Singing," and Bobby McFerrin's "23rd Psalm (dedicated to my mother)."

Not on my 'special' cd: I mentioned Peter Gabriel last time; he has many selections that stand out, but "I Grieve" from the City of Angels soundtrack deserves special mention for this purpose.

Yesterday I listened to Shawn Colvin's Fat City. The lyrics sometimes reflect her relative youth in 1992, but her songs are usually thoughtful and emotional, and that works for me. This was also my first Shawn Colvin cd, so I always think of it fondly.

And lest I forget the most important song from the most important film ever made, let me add Judy Garland's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I grew up loving that movie, my parents both loved Judy Garland, and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is one of the last songs I could get Mom to sing along with. "You are My Sunshine" is the other one. Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's version of "Rainbow" is also a favorite, but in my world, nothing compares to Judy.



Moving on from the music, there is one other item I wanted to post. Yesterday, a friend asked me in an email how my day was. I responded with unusual thoughtfulness on my part, and realized that what I wrote I could have written for this blog as well. So I am inserting a part of it.

"My day is winding down. We get a little online time while watching Mom eat her dinner. She eats herself, but needs some coaching and prompting, and lots of cleanup. But for those 30 minutes or so that she's actually eating, we get a short break. We'll eat after we put her in the recliner, just as we did when you came. It's been an emotional day for me. More and more in the mornings, after getting Mom up and washed and dressed and fed and off to day care on the van, the impact of her long, slow dying, and the prospect of her actual death getting more real and foreseeable, all puts me in touch with a grief that doesn't moderate with time. It's worse on the mornings I go to yoga, as I did this morning. Yoga makes me slow down, breathe, and become aware of what's going on internally. And now the end of the day, near the end of the week, and I'm tired. It was a good day overall, mostly because it started with yoga, and no matter what that brings up, it still feels better to start the day that way."

And so it goes.

Music to Grieve By

So today I thought I'd write about some of the music I listen to that is most helpful as we live with Mom's care. And the truth is, it is music to grieve by. Every day as I watch Mom deteriorate, even slightly, the grief continues and accumulates. It's as wearing as her daily care. It is, in fact, almost inconceivable, which is why finding something like music that acknowledges grief, accesses it, and/or comforts it is something I spend time thinking about.

(Warning: I'm a Lilith Fair kinda gal, which explains the pool from which I dip. )

The most obvious choice is Rosanne Cash's Black Cadillac (2006). Written after losing her stepmother (June Carter Cash, d. 5/15/2003), father (Johnny Cash, d. 9/12/2003), and mother (Vivian Distin, d. 5/25/2005) in the space of two years, the album is clearly a personal portrait of loss. At the same time, Cash leaves room for the listener to access his or her own grief, whatever that may be. Two of my favorite songs include "I Was Watching You" and "God Is In the Roses." Throughout the album, Cash speaks directly to, about, and for her parents, especially her dad, Johnny Cash. In "I Was Watching You," she speaks to him, singing, "All these years to prove how much I care / I didn't know it, but you were always there / until September when you slipped away / in the middle of my life / on the longest day / now I hear you say / I'll be watching you / from above / cause long after life there is love."

Lest you think she gets maudlin, in "God Is In the Roses," she takes the stock image of a rose and makes it concrete and real, playing, I believe, on the cliche, "God is in the details":

God is in the roses
the petals and the thorns
storms out on the oceans
the souls who will be born
and every drop of rain that falls
falls for those who mourn
God in in the roses
and the thorns



The sun is on the cemetery
leaves are on the stones
there never was a place on earth
that felt so much like home
we're falling like the velvet petals
we're bleeding and we're torn
but God is in the roses
and the thorns

If I could play one song at Mom's funeral, that would be it.

There is also Cash's song "September When It Comes," from her Rules of Travel cd. It's her only recorded duet with her dad, and it's unbelievably touching. He was clearly weak when they recorded it, and his voice is a little scratchier than usual. Plus it's about aging, and was recorded in his last years. I heard Rosanne interviewed on NPR's "Fresh Air" after it came out, and the whole concept of the song and performing it with sick father was incredibly moving. Here's one verse:

"I plan to crawl outside these walls / Close my eyes and see / And fall into the heart and arms / Of those who wait for me / I cannot move a mountain now / I can no longer run / I cannot be who I was then / In a way, I never was." To hear Johnny's voice creaking a little on that verse is poignant, to say the least. And then for him to actually die in September--that's synchronicity.

Another album that gets frequent play around here and helps me keep in touch with my grief is Annie Lennox's Songs of Mass Destruction. While not specifically about grief, both the tone and lyrics set the mood. Most notable for me is the song "Dark Road." It was on this morning, and these lyrics jumped out at me: "I can't find the joy within my soul / it's just sadness takin' hold / I wanna come in from the cold / and make myself renewed again / it takes strength to live this way / the same old madness every day / I wanna kick these blues away / I wanna learn to live again." It's not that I feel my life is that oppressive all the time, but sometimes you just have to give vent. Another song on this album that gets me is "Lost." On this one, it's not the lyrics as much as Lennox's plaintive voice wailing that one line, "We're lost." It speaks grief to me, and speaks to my own grief, watching my mother die by degrees.
Of course, Lennox plays some much stronger, driving songs, and those can help process feelings, sometimes regardless of the lyrics. It's a very addictive album.

The other album on my most frequent rotation list really has nothing at all to do with grief, but Sia's singing is moving nonetheless. Some People Have Real Problems is my favorite, but Colour the Small One has some great songs, too. I got interested in Sia after seeing her phenomenal video for "Soon We'll Be Found." I'd never seen anything like it. Then my granddaughters fell in love with it. If Sia is playing now, and that song comes on, Avri freezes and says, "Listen! It's my favorite song!" She and Kiana try to do the signing then (she does some ASL in the video), but that usually evolves into general interpretive dance. Anyway, Sia is a great one for a contemplative soundtrack.



Looking at an incomplete list of my itunes music, the Beatles get several mentions ("The Long and Winding Road" being the first one to pop into my head), Elton John a few (see, I do listen to some male music), Peter Gabriel, and a few odd other assorted characters. More to be added? No doubt. I could revisit this topic over and over, I believe.