My mom spent her last years removed from the universe. Her connections melted away, friends and most family gone and, if not forgotten, at least in the far recesses of her brain, in a place she could not reach.
Her facility with language also disappeared. Our conversations, or what remained of them, were truncated, empty and unconnected to time or place.
Yet, there was one remaining flicker of light that never wholly vanished. When my mom was in hospice care, her favorite moments were with her music therapist. It was then that my mother was most alive, suddenly able to sing a Sinatra tune, the lyrics jumbled a bit but still a reasonable facsimile of the original.
As I read of the death of Glen Campbell, of his open struggles with Alzheimer's and his last album filled with the songs that remained within reach, I remember my mother and the final video taken of her. There she was, with her therapist, in full voice, the words of Sinatra on her lips.
Truly, and in ways only those who have been witness to the devastating effects of dementia close up can fully comprehend, the sound of my mom singing was and will forever remain music to my ears.
6 comments:
you made me cry----again lois
As a lover of music and its healing potential your post struck a happy "chord".
HR
Very Touching
KS
I remember that video of her singing along.... music as healing.. xo
Yes. I was amazed and always thrilled when my mom, who could no longer speak and could hardly hold her head up, would hum along to the 40s music played at her nursing home. All her life, she loved singers, actors, and actresses. 'Til this day, whenever an old celebrity dies, my first thought is to call my mom and tell her. She's been gone ten years now.
get teary just reading
MA
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