Twindaddy at Stuphblog issued a challenge. From the first of May and for twenty-five days to select a piece of music arising from twenty-five questions posed by him.
1st – a song from your childhood – this one made me quite sad. And happy.
Music filled my ears,
from sweetest voice
I ever heard; my mum.
Songs of love, beautifully surrendered
to family chores
with hugs and tunes by turn.
In simple grace
her words flowed
like a fountain,
sparkling life into the hearts of all
who heard an angel echo every morning,
called to us to rise, the day begun.
No one heard her voice
without succumbing
to the heart of one who raised all spirits high,
by grace and goodness woven into music
we listened and we learned
from ballads’ sigh.
My father smiled whenever mum was singing,
some chosen for their love,
given free,
others for all children
and god’s pleasure.
And one tune, especially, sung for me.
It followed me through life
when, as requested, I learned
to voice god’s talents handed on,
when dad would ask for my rendition
of the one
all family members called, ‘my song’.
I hear it still from time to time in passing,
I sing along and
memories flood my mind,
of childhood days and melodies imbibed then
from two, whose love
knew how to warm and bind.
They’re gone now, from this world of lovers,
reunited
after many years apart.
I hear them still in music I hold dearest,
still, after all this time,
they fill my heart.
scottishmomus 
No words. So very beautiful, Anne-Marie.
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Raw moments still return but time does do its job too, Cole. Treasured forever.x
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Hitting me where I live. But so wonderful and evocative of the love of your parents. xo
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I’m sorry, this must hurt for you. Hitting raw. It really does get easier. Trite but true. An example of when time is a gift. Hugs, my friend, till I can hug you for real.x
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Beautiful momus. Thank you for sharing a lovely part of your life. They will always be with you in that song, and now in poem. Namaste
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Thank you,Mark. They never go but sometimes they are more clearly present. Namaste.x
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Lovely and moving, Anne-Marie. xxx
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Thanks,Ali. I can hardly believe how easy it is to revisit so many years ago and for it all to seem like yesterday. For loss, after the worst grief has passed, to rise as new. But, the message in the poem I found soothing and comforting. I could ‘hear’ my parents tell me to be all I could be, to make them and myself proud. Jeez, I still feel moved by it. The sign, I would say, of words truly spoken and evoking an elemental response. I don’t honestly know if we ever get over the loss of parents. I read somewhere that only when your mother died did you truly become an adult. You no longer had the crutch of her advice and someone to nuzzle you when you were confused or broken. No one really replaces that unique role. Sadly, I read a post today where that was so not the case. I can’t begin to imagine the absence of those role models and their love in my life. x
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An immensely moving comment, Anne-Marie. I would agree with you about the loss of parents: my father died nearly seven years ago – and, although my mother is technically still alive, she is lost to me in the dreadful world of Alzheimer’s Disease – so I really feel for you in your double loss. They are our first Gods: all powerful and magnetic creatures, elemental almost.
From them, we learn our culture, our history, the traditions of family and land and faith. From them, we learn how to love – and how to hate.
From them, we learn about the light which shines through the cracks of flawed humanity.
I think to be unmoved by a parental death is a sign of serious emotional blockage, and of the willing crushing down of the soul.
I think we choose triggers – and music is my main one – from time to time because we NEED the release of tears; we NEED to revisit that loss and grief.
xxx
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You know, Ali, it seems almost strange to me that I grieved for my dad than ‘got over it’ – 26 years ago. Then I lost my mum just over 4 years ago. my doctor understood the extent of my grief then. I had nursed my mum, yes, but…I was an orphan!,he said! I was bowled over by the realisation that there was no longer that adult/parental influence in my life. Other than what they had taught. And, by the gods, they taught it. Lived it. Love, strength, weakness, advice, guidance, values, you name it.
It rings with me yet again today when, as you well know, Ali, experience with children absent of positive influence could drive you to despair for the prospects of their neverending unhappiness.
I don’t despair because there are so many sources of love and nurture out there who may make a difference in the lives of these forgotten children. But, how much easier it was for me to know that that which I needed was always there. It scares me, Ali. Parents often have no concept of their huge importance in the future well-being of their children. Nothing replaces that continual, ever-present love.
Shit, I’m gonna stop. I’m going off on one again. I wish I could tell my own parents now how much I value who and what they held true to. But I think they know. x
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