As the World Turns
On December 22nd my mother fell and broke her hip. She had been living in a long-term care home for six years. During that time she experienced the progress of dementia. In the month before her fall she was becoming noticeably more frail. My sister, my brother-in-law and I kept vigil at the hospital for two weeks. On January 6th mom died.
Compared to the uplifting music I write about here normally, the noises and fluorescent lights of the hospital make for a pretty stark environment. During those two weeks my mom suffered and so did we, but we also learned some very important things. We learned more about how much our mother loved us and we learned more about how much we loved her and one another.
There was nothing perfect or ideal about the situation or about any of us, but it was in these circumstances that we grew in love.
My sister was persevering to the "nth" degree. She spent almost every night at the hospital. That was well beyond my energy level. We were graced with being with my mother when she died.
From the day my mom fell to the day following the funeral seems like one long day and at the same time a period very short in duration. Many people came both to the funeral home and to the funeral itself.
My mother and father used to go to the opera and the ballet on dates (though they usually sat in the back row). A few months ago I brought a video of a comic opera that is not very often performed: "La Fille du Regiment" -- The Daughter of the Regiment. By that time, mom was not able to give long attention to very much of anything but we watched and listened to more than 30 minutes of the opera and she told me that her dad had gone to see it. And I don't doubt that. Her memory for this music was still present when much else had left her. Finding beauty in the fog -- that is consoling.
In Catholic theology when we speak of the soul we are not referring to a separated spirit, but the totality of our personhood -- what makes us a person. Music seems to have that capacity to speak to us in our personhood.
For the funeral we tried to find music that spoke to our faith in the resurrection and to this beauty. The first hymn was a quotation of St. Paul: "No eye has seen, nor ear heard of the glories that await." My father's patron saint was Joseph, so we sang a hymn in his honour at the preparation of the gifts and communion featured the Bach/Gounod Ave Maria, and O Sanctissima. At the end of Mass we sang "Lord of All Hopefulness" to testify to God's providence in my mom Eileen's life and in all of our lives. Bach's "Sleepers Awake", saw us out the door of the church.
The music dialogued with all of us and was a complement to the love-offering in prayer that so many contributed to. Thanks to so many and may the angels bring her safely home.
Compared to the uplifting music I write about here normally, the noises and fluorescent lights of the hospital make for a pretty stark environment. During those two weeks my mom suffered and so did we, but we also learned some very important things. We learned more about how much our mother loved us and we learned more about how much we loved her and one another.There was nothing perfect or ideal about the situation or about any of us, but it was in these circumstances that we grew in love.
My sister was persevering to the "nth" degree. She spent almost every night at the hospital. That was well beyond my energy level. We were graced with being with my mother when she died.
From the day my mom fell to the day following the funeral seems like one long day and at the same time a period very short in duration. Many people came both to the funeral home and to the funeral itself.
My mother and father used to go to the opera and the ballet on dates (though they usually sat in the back row). A few months ago I brought a video of a comic opera that is not very often performed: "La Fille du Regiment" -- The Daughter of the Regiment. By that time, mom was not able to give long attention to very much of anything but we watched and listened to more than 30 minutes of the opera and she told me that her dad had gone to see it. And I don't doubt that. Her memory for this music was still present when much else had left her. Finding beauty in the fog -- that is consoling.
In Catholic theology when we speak of the soul we are not referring to a separated spirit, but the totality of our personhood -- what makes us a person. Music seems to have that capacity to speak to us in our personhood.
For the funeral we tried to find music that spoke to our faith in the resurrection and to this beauty. The first hymn was a quotation of St. Paul: "No eye has seen, nor ear heard of the glories that await." My father's patron saint was Joseph, so we sang a hymn in his honour at the preparation of the gifts and communion featured the Bach/Gounod Ave Maria, and O Sanctissima. At the end of Mass we sang "Lord of All Hopefulness" to testify to God's providence in my mom Eileen's life and in all of our lives. Bach's "Sleepers Awake", saw us out the door of the church.
The music dialogued with all of us and was a complement to the love-offering in prayer that so many contributed to. Thanks to so many and may the angels bring her safely home.
