Actually an Artist

What’s a relationship that’s shaped you? What age(s) were you? How does it continue to shape you?

Contemplative Prompt 2024, 3

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When I published this post, I didn’t know I’d be attending a funeral this week. Memorial services are times when I inevitably think about the people and relationships that have ended. The deceased was a lovely man and kind music mentor. He had a full church with wonderful musical offerings in honor of him and God. It reminded me of when my grandpa died and I played his memorial service because it made me think about how emotional music is, and particularly how comforting it is. When music is at its best, I think it unites us in a shared experience, and that experience can certainly be spiritual. My grandpa was a big supporter of my music making, he just loved the organ, particularly the low notes. There’s a real embodied experience in the shaking of the low notes of an organ. When I was at Oberlin, students would storm the stage at the end of the organ pump to sit up against the instrument and feel the soundwaves collide through the wood.

Other pictures of organ pump madness not by me can be found here and here.

Honestly, I don’t have much emotional energy though to dive into my relationship with my grandpa. He was kind and gentle. I loved him very much and was so lucky to have a relationship with him into adulthood. It was a big reason why Jake and I decided to have kids; we wanted our kids to have relationships with their grandparents. Some of my last visits to him were between trips to France since he lived near major international airports. Landing back in the country near a loved one was special and I’m sure it was exciting for him to support me in my musical studies like that. I also spent some time mending clothes of his. He had a comfy sweater he loved but it had elbow holes. I knit up some patches and attached them. He told everyone how his granddaughter fixed up his sweater. It was an act of love; even at the age of 19/20, I knew what I was doing and at least a part of what it meant to him.

The last time I saw him, I had flown back from Europe and in a few days was going to fly home to my parents. As I prepared to get in the car to the airport (my aunt and cousins were visiting, and she was going to take us), he stopped in the hallway, put both hands on each shoulder and looked me square in the eyes. He said “I just don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” I think an energy passed between us and we knew. But I didn’t know what to say, so I said that I would make it back out there. I did, but for his memorial. I played the organ for his service even though it was so hard and I cried so much. It was the last thing I could give him, was to be the one to play for him. He was so proud of me and my music. That’s one of the parts of my musical background that I take with me and want to participate in again someday. The realness, raw emotions of facing the reality of life. Growing your relationship with someone at the eve of their life (which, really, could be anyone) will change you. Anyway, since I’m not up for getting deeper into this, I want to leave you with some more pictures of me and grandpa, the early years. ❤