Just Because

A Tale: Loss, Joy and Hope

There once was a father who loved his family. On his death bed he said, “I have such immense love for my children, that it’s  hard for me to leave.” He occupied his death bed for two years before his actual death. During this time, he was cared for by his wife, five children and their spouses, and visited often by his beloved grandchildren. The father’s eldest child was a daughter.

In his lifetime, the father, a psychologist by trade, helped many people. At his funeral a number of neighbors reported to the eldest daughter a variation of the same story,

 “I’m not sure you understand how your dad helped our family. We called upon him many times in the middle of the night. He came to our home and never complained about helping our out-of-control teenage sister/brother,  son/daughter. He never accepted any payment. We had such peace of mind with your dad’s help.”

These accounts of her father’s quiet life moved the daughter. Her father’s purpose in life never seemed to be questioned by him or others. He made his way helping others. He simply believed humans were inherently good.

 “Most people are just trying to make their way in life. They seem to do the best they can,” was how the father explained human behavior. He was a very kind man. 

In his ‘before dying years the father sang and whistled constantly. He had a lovely voice and often sang solos in his church choir. In the weeks leading up to Christmas Eve, he would practice his Midnight Mass solo:

In the Little Village of Bethlehem, there lay a child one day

It was the same song for 35 years. He passed his love of music to the eldest daughter who grew up dreaming of being a rock star. She observed the contentment, dedication, and joy that the father brought to and found in the music he listened to and performed. He spent many evenings listening to classical music (but never Stravinsky- the dissonance in that music was too jarring for the father’s gentle soul.) And of course, he went to choir practice every Wednesday night with church performances on Sunday. 

Towards the end of the his life, the father often believed that monsters, witches and evil animals were nearby trying to harm him. He often became angry and belligerent toward those who cared for him. This time was very challenging for the family. The father often turned into another person. One who made it difficult for some of his caretakers to understand. This time was especially difficult for the eldest daughter. She tried not to resent the father or the situation. She often felt that her voice was not heard. She was asked to do many things which she was not comfortable with; changing her father’s adult diapers, organizing and administering drugs to prolong the father’s life, interviewing and supervising care givers for her father.  The care of her father, who was becoming someone she did not recognize was a challenge. She cried often and her body hurt. She loved her father very much, but she often wished for his death to come.

During this time, a magical young musician entered the daughter’s work life. An unassuming young man who displayed an ordinarily quiet demeanor, who choose a teaching life over a performing life. He liked to fly under the radar of social interactions. The two shared a teaching space from 8 am to 4 pm every weekday. She taught art to students ages five through ten. He taught music to the same 600 students. Their workspace was close quartered and not ideal. Yet it allowed them both to observe each other’s teaching styles and hidden talents. She was intrigued by his ability to play any instrument put in front of him. 

“I can play any instrument, except for the violin. Please do not ask me to play that!” 

The art teacher wondered why? Maybe the violin was a bewitched instrument which could cause harm to the talented musician. No matter, she decided to ask the musician to help her with her dream. 

“I have always wanted to be a Rock Star,” the daughter crowed. “I will pay you to help me with my dream.” 

“I do not want your money,” replied the young man. “I will teach you and play with you just because.” 

The daughter thought this was quite extraordinary. She had found a very kind friend. 

The daughter and the young musician sang together most days. Early in their singing adventure they sang songs from bands which were important to each of them. Then gradually, they began to sing songs they wrote themselves. She wrote the lyrics, he wrote the music, of course. The daughter could not believe the joy she experienced when she sang with her new friend. They were only able to capture 20 minutes a day for rehearsal, usually at a shared plan time in the art/music classroom where they taught elementary arts. They were often interrupted by co-workers who were curious about their music-creating adventure. They finally settled for the boiler room of the schoolhouse for uninterrupted rehearsal time. 

The daughter would be buoyed by rehearsals - so much so, that time seemed to play a funny trick.  The flow of learning a new skill would make time stand still and disappear all in the same instance. She learned so much from her new friend. Her voice became stronger. Her harmonies became brighter and on pitch. It was all a wonderous adventure. One which she had not experienced before.

 “Whenever MJ (a fourth grade teacher at their school) pops in and finds us singing together, I feel like I am getting caught in something I shouldn’t be doing.  It is the high point of my day. We should definitely not be having this much fun at work!” remarked the daughter one day. 

“Yeah, perfecting our songs is becoming a bit of an obsession for me. It is almost like we are having an affair with our music!” the young musician replied. 

“Oh, is that what we are doing? Conducting an illicit creative affair?” the daughter retorts. Both the musician and daughter had a hearty laugh at this description.

A year into the musical duos’ adventure, the father died. The daughter and her family were very sad. It was the first time in the daughter’s life that she had experienced tremendous grief. Grief appeared and physically embodied the daughter. Her shoulders froze and her chest tightened. It was as though her outer body was contracting to protect her heart. Grief was its own spirit. Its own monster, who often sat on the daughter’s heart and crushed her. Along with great sadness, life brings great wonder. For it was at this time that the joy of singing seemed to pull her out of grief’s hold. 

Her singing and creating with her new friend saved the daughter. Their music was often comprised of sad songs. As the young talented musician was also grieving losses in his life. His losses were the kind many young people experience; a loss of a known family structure, the loss of youthful experiences giving way to adult responsibility and the loss of childhood dreams shifting to everyday reality. They continued to create music together and the daughter’s dream of becoming a rock star was developing. (Maybe only in her head.) Even today they can be heard singing together. Each has learned to let music heal some of the unspoken hurt in their individual lives. Just as life ebbs and flows, the sad songs will eventually give way to lighter tunes to be sung, just because.