His Piano...

For more than four years now, his piano has been mostly silent.  It is one of those objects that has such a strong sense of him, it brings me to tears to touch it.  So I don't play it-not that I ever did very much, but now I don't at all. 

When munchkin was 2 and 3 he took a piano class at his montessori school.  He loved it but it was a group session and did not necessitate practice on the piano.  Now that he is 5, he has discovered his joy of reading and also the joy of the piano. 

He has dug through my filing cabinet of music and taken it upon himself to "read" the music and "play" the piano.  Fortunately, he remembers a striking amount of the basics (finger numbers and note names) so he is doing fairly well. 

It is odd, that something that when Robert was alive brought us such joy, when he died it pierced my heart with just the sound of the keys.   And now, I see our son, gravitate towards it.  I help him and we work together on it.  He absorbs it like a sponge and it is beautiful to see.

When I say it pierced my heart, I mean that in the most literal sense of the word.  That first Christmas, I tried so hard to play Christmas music and to share that with my family.  I physically could not do it, I would sit on the bench paralyzed with greif and cry.  The tears would run down my cheeks and I would silently close the lid and walk away.   The silence of the piano was deafening to me, but I could not bring myself to play it. 

Now, munchkin has been practicing consistently.  He loves it, he reads his work books and plays the notes.  I really should find him a teach besides me, but I fear that any teacher I find, would not live up to the shadow of Robert.   He was by far and hands down the best music teacher that I have ever seen in my life.  I know that I may be biased, however I also know that there are some former students that read this that will confirm.  He was a special soul and he was built for teaching.  

I pray that I can find someone to help munchkin love music as much as Robert and I do!

September is Golden

Do you know what a gold ribbon means?  (no not pink) Gold is for Childhood Cancer Awareness and September is designated to promoting awareness of childhood cancer. 

Children are amongst the most vulnerable people on the face of this earth, parents are programmed to protect them at ALL cost.   Sometimes, we cannot protect.  Sometimes, the child teaches the parent things that no parent should have to learn--bravery, courage, hope and grief.

Last September I was introduced to a sweet lady, Mary Tyler Mom.   She lost her precious Donna to cancer and she and her family have chosen to find hope even in their loss.   For the month of September she chronicles Donna's journey through surgeries, treatment and heartbreak and she shares her with us.  Last year a friend showed it to me in the Chicago Tribune.   I was having a hard time and she thought that maybe I could find some solace in the words of wisdom and caring that were being posted.

In the past year since I have been following this family I have been so inspired.  I have seen her share her charm and wit and her sadness with readers all over the word.  Mary Tyler Mom really and truly demonstrates hope and grace everyday.  She is candid and she is caring and awesome. 

In her spare time she raises money for research for pediatric cancer. Dedicated research is underfunded to say the least, and I will save that rant for a later post along with an action of what you can do to help (especially if you live in Illinois!)  She runs fundraisers, she attends races, she runs a foundation "Donna's Good Things" oh and she works full time and cares for her husband and son! In between she shares herself reminding us to CHOOSE HOPE. 

Again this month she is sharing their journey and Donna with us.  This time not in just the Chicago Tribune but she is being featured by the Huffington Post! She chooses to share her precious girl with us and give us a glimpse into their lives.  If you have not yet done so, please mosey on over and take a look.  I promise that you will not regret it and maybe just maybe in reading and sharing Donna's story you can find some hope and witness a whole ton of love. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sheila-quirke/donnas-cancer-story-dance-class_b_1892280.html

Band Season

I have played music since third grade. Music has always been a huge part of my life. It was a passion that we shared.

I have this theory that there are "natural musicians" and "learned musicians" Learned musicians can play whatever is in front of them with work and practice (me). Natural musicians have a direct conduit from the brain to instrument. The music flows effortlessly and beautifully. This was Robert. He is hands down the most gifted musician I have ever seen. He could compose beautifully. We could play music together completely. He wrote pieces for me for clarinet. He arranged for vocals and it was awesome. Our lives and our souls entwined with music. It was ever present in our home.

Fast forward to the months following the accident. I did not have within my being the physical or mental stamina required to touch "his" piano, my clarinet or anything relating to music. It was devastating to me on so many levels.

The fact that on March 29th, 2008 music was like oxygen to my brain and on March 30, 2008 it became a tortuous reminder that my world was sucked away in an instant. To touch "his" piano made me physically ill. I was consumed by the realization that he would NEVER play with me or for me again. His students would never learn from him again and our son would grow up without sharing the piano with him. It was brutal and it was too much to bear. So I avoided it.

That fall, I was invited to play in a community band and although it made my heart hurt to do it alone, I chose to do it. I chose to try and find myself and rediscover the joy in music again. I told myself I had music before him and I would kick myself later if I didn't hold on to music for me.

For four years now, I have been going to rehearsal, playing in concerts and practicing through tears and memories. Literally, there were rehearsals that the silent tears flowed the entire time. The first concert I let the tears stream down my cheeks. I left the stage sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe all because he was not in the audience. He would never be there sitting next to munchkin to cheer me on, and I would never get to sit in an audience with munchkin and cheer him on. That hurt. It took my breath away.

But I came back, and I kept coming back. And I kept pushing through. I have played pieces that I played with him. There was a piece that we played in high school together...I swear I could hear him playing his trumpet. Then we played a piece originally scored for a brass quintet "Saints Hallelujah" by Canadian Brass. Seriously go to you tube and search for it. A medley of the "Hallelujah Chorus" and "When the Saints go Marching In". I didn't know if I could keep it up but I did. I pushed through the tears....more tears than I care to remember.

Each season was filled with a mixture of dread and hope.

Well this week it was different. This time I walked in...I still had the memories and the anticipation. But this time, this time I didn't lose it. Not only did I not have the tears running down my cheeks, but I finally felt a sense of peace about myself. I hope that I have finally found a way to rediscover joy in music. We are playing a full slate including one of my all time favorite pieces.

For that I am thankful. For that I am hopeful.