Stop the Music

I don't really want it to stop. But the number of times songs keep coming up at the most bizarre times is more than I can count.

The first one can be rationalized. This summer, I often went to check on my parents about 9:30 a.m. I would go to Rolling Hills first around that time, and then go by Dad's house. Almost every day as I drove south on Urish Road, the song, "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye" by Patty Loveless (not Lovelace, as my sister thought) would come on. There were several times I made Emily sit in the hot car for a few minutes when we got to the Rolling Hills parking lot so I could listen to the end of the song where the mother dies as the daughter is sitting with her. Well, also so I could compose myself because I would cry every time. We would go in to see Mom once that song was over. And there's probably a good reason I heard it so many times. I went there about the same time every day, and I'm sure Prime Country on Sirius XM has some patterns to the songs they play. What I didn't expect with that song was about 4 or 5 days after Dad died, when I had been at his house going through pictures for his funeral, that song came on in the afternoon when I was driving over to Walmart to pick up prints of the photos I had ordered.

I shared that story with my sister, who then insisted it was meant to be a song at Mom's funeral. As we sat in Mom's room at the Kelly House after she died, we talked about that song along with a few others that we thought should be at the funeral. Dad had picked his songs, and they were fitting for him. We picked songs for Mom's funeral that spoke to us. In the minutes after her death, we talked about "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye," "Angels Among Us," and "Go Rest High on That Mountain." Mom loved Alabama and Vince Gill, so the last two seemed fitting. Except as the analytical part of my brain took over, I kept hearing the words to Go Rest High in my mind. "Son, your work on earth is through." It's a boy song. I couldn't get over that. So after our departure from the Kelly House and a brief visit with a friend who had done much to brighten Mom's days in her last few months, I went home to collapse on the couch and thought about songs. I did a quick google search because I kept thinking there had to be another Vince Gill song that would work, but one of the first things that popped up was Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran. Mom wasn't an Ed Sheeran fan as far as I know, but she would have been had she been given his music to listen to. And when I texted Karla to tell her to listen to that song, we both had the same emotional reaction to it--unstoppable ugly tears. The lyrics to that song fit so perfectly. Packing up her things, not being able to stop the tears, God being so happy to welcome her home. She was an angel in the shape of my mum (he's from the UK). A heart that's been broken is a heart that's been loved. There was no other song that could be more perfect, so Vince Gill had been replaced.

The next night, we got together to finalize songs and decided for sure to use Angels Among Us, How Can I Help You Say Goodbye, and Angels Among Us. We had tons of songs that we wanted to use, but those were during the service. So we also picked a list for before and after the service. Go Rest High made it on that list, as did I Will Rise, When I Get Where I'm Going, Dancing in the Sky, Oh My Soul, Just Be Held, Letter From Heaven, How Great Thou Art, Wing Beneath My Wings, and Well Done. The girls met back at the funeral home the next Tuesday to let the granddaughters paint Mom's nails, and while we were getting things set up, Ed and Pete from the funeral home were working on the playlists. Pete had to stop us because he wanted us to double check Letter From Heaven, because it claimed the lyrics were explicit. We looked up the lyrics, listened to the song, and couldn't find any issues. So the music was set.

And then came the funeral. The first song, Angels Among Us, plays. Karla and I are already in the front row trying to distract ourselves from crying by laughing inappropriately during the service. George Gibson introduces the Alabama song that Mom loves. And it's the live version. Genuine laughter in the front row. There's cheering, there's Randy Owen telling us to sing along, there's even a shout of "We love you, Georgia!" Too bad Mom's name wasn't Georgia! For those people that haven't yet asked us, no, we didn't choose the live version. We were as surprised as the rest of the crowd! Personally, I'm glad it happened because that song will always be a memory of my mom and it won't be tears. It will be tears of joy as I remember singing along with my sister to the live version of Angels Among Us. Since the funeral, Linda received an email about Heavenly Heart Songs, songs that pop in your head and remind you words of hope throughout the day. Angels Among Us has been a song that has been popping into her head and bringing a smile to her face.

A difficult moment happened for me yesterday. I am starting to believe I'm not meant to sleep on a Monday night. Two weeks ago, Kim and I were sitting awake with Mom all night on her last night. Last week, I had just gotten back from New York and spent Monday getting prepared for the hard two days ahead. This week, I had high hopes of sleeping through Monday night but I only made it until 1:30 a.m. when I awoke from a quite vivid dream. Karla and I were riding in the back seat of a car, Mom between us. Aunt Jean was driving and Uncle Duane was in the passenger seat. Karla was sitting behind Jean and for some reason, had rear controls for the car on her side. She needed me to trade her sides so somehow we swapped places. Mom was Mom. She was speaking clearly to us. I don't remember what we were talking about, but she was talking like normal. She looked normal, not the worn down version of her self we came to know this year. As we traded sides, I was then focused on driving and where we were going. It looked like a neighborhood full of magnificent houses, showcase after showcase. The road was actually tiled and hard to drive on. We missed our turn as I was trying to help Aunt Jean drive, and we had to turn the car around in a U-shaped driveway that was very narrow and hard to turn on, but we did it. As we left that driveway to go to the huge house next door, I realized we were taking Mom to a nursing facility. But she was still sitting and talking to us just like normal in the backseat. But this facility was in Montana, and we were dropping her off. And then we were leaving her. We walked her in to this picture perfect place to sign the paperwork as we've done so many times this year. I was screaming inside my head, until I finally got it out to Karla: what are we doing? Why are we dropping her off? We can't just leave her in Montana, because we'll never see her again. Why did we think this was a good idea? And then I woke up. Mom was trying to say something, but I woke up so I don't know what she was telling us. I couldn't sleep the rest of the night but I did come to the conclusion that we did send Mom to a beautiful showplace, and while it wasn't what I want because I don't get to have her here with me, we've signed her into the best place she can be where she is back to being herself, just like we would want her to be. The final moment of dream was long after I had gotten dressed and ready for work. I went into the garage and turned on my car, where my normal Prime Country on Sirius XM was ready to play a song for me. Dan Seals and Marie Osmond were on the radio singing "Meet Me in Montana" when my car radio came on. It literally took mere seconds for tears to stream down my face. That song was popular in 1985, when my parents and I drove to Montana in September for my cousin, Beth's, wedding. I remember hearing the song all the time on that trip. When Beth died from cancer 2 years ago, Karla and I drove Mom to Montana for her funeral, a trip I will cherish for the rest of my life. Even then, it wasn't easy traveling that far with Mom because of her back and walking problems. But I think we all three truly enjoyed our time together. That song has had a special place in my heart, especially since that last trip, because it makes me think of the cousin I lived so far from but faithfully wrote letters to, even when she was in college. It reminds me of the trip I had with just my sister and my mom. I wish we would've had more of those. But this time, after this dream, where I was abandoning my mother at a nursing home in Montana to never see her again, those words were powerful. "I had all of this life I can handle. Meet me underneath that big Montana sky." I didn't make the music stop. I listened to the song, texted my sister, and let the emotions go. The songs will be there to remind me. And I don't want to forget.