This post is the first half of an article I wrote for the Concord Monitor. I will post the second half next week.
Singing with Mom and my sister, Heidi.
I am a singer. I process the world through my ears and my voice. In early October, I went to Virginia to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday. Mom has advanced Alzheimer’s. When I visit, I sing to her – lullabies, folk songs, spirituals and old hymns. Once again, I am reminded of this profound fact – sound creates healing, connection and community.
The last night of my visit, Mom and I sat in the quiet Town Center of her residence, rocking in rhythm together. I sang “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Her face lit up and she began moving her lips to the words. I sang “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and Mom spontaneously began tapping her knees with her hands in perfect time with the beat. She “sang” with me, sounds and notes intelligible to her, in time with me, anchoring her to the memory of a song from her past and sharing that memory with another person – me – in the present.
What is heart-warming and astonishing is that Mom has almost no language left. At 80, Mom’s twinkling, sassy face is mostly vacant. She doesn’t know me. For a while, she knew my voice. Now the songs connect and comfort us – face-to-face, word-by-word, together in the present moment.
When I sing for the residents, I sing songs from their childhood and early adulthood – I’ve Been Working On The Railroad, You Are My Sunshine, My Wild Irish Rose, Let Me Call You Sweetheart. Two dozen gray-haired folks cluster around the piano, most in wheelchairs. It’s mid-afternoon. My mother and her neighbors look sleepy, but as soon as I open my mouth, they lift their heads and start to sing. Some sing loudly. Some just move their lips. Some tap their fingers or feet. Many know the words, these sweet parents who don’t know the names of their own children.
Esther sang in a church choir all her life. When I sing “Amazing Grace,” Esther stands up with me, holds my hand, watches my lips and sings every verse. Her face is alight with joy.
After nearly two hours of music, a well-coifed, white-haired woman came up to me and said, “I hope you come back again soon.” I noticed her singing every song. I asked her what her name was. She answered with a smile, “Doris Duvall. Isn’t that a lovely name?” I agreed it was.
Peggo, what a gift you give these residents and , of course, your own dear Mother. When my mother was dying in hospice, my siblings and I decided to bring an accordian player into her room and play for her as she taught this instrument to many adults and children for many years. With his playing, we also sang songs from the choir songbook from her church as she sang with them for many years as well. This began a constant reverent musical experience in her room until her death. It gave her tremendous joy which at the end she could only express with the movement of her eyes as she was so dried up and shrunken from pancreatic cancer. God Bless you for bringing the magical power of music and your angelic voice to your Mom and these residents.
Sincerely,
Alana
Alana, how lovely to hear from you. I love hearing these stories of music bridging communication with people who can no longer talk in the usual ways. Music seems to get to the emotional heart of what needs and wants to be said.
As you say, it’s very comforting for the ones singing, too. It gives us a way to connect in a vital, meaningful way.
Thanks for sharing your story.
love
Peggo
Thank you, Peggo, for sharing these words with us. I remember singing hymns and old favorites with my mother a few years ago in hospice. She was filled with joy. Her face lit up every day when we sang How Great Thou Art or Blue Skies or Amazing Grace. She knew them all and singing gave her the sacred place where she could talk with me about dying and what would be on “the other side.” I treasured singing with her as I treasure singing with you every week at Songweavers. You gift us. Bona
Bona,
I am learning how to see the comments on my website. Thank you for your kind thoughts. You make my day.
Singing is the quickest way to joyful connection. Peggo
Thank you so much for gifting all of The Memory Center residents and staff with your positive energy, sincerity, and of course beautiful voice! I enjoy reading your insightful reflection on your performances and your mothers disease progression. I choke back tears when I see a spark of familiarity from you mom when you sing to her. Again, thank you!
Jessica,
thanks for your thoughts.It is a blessing that Mom is with you all at The Memory Center. Thanks for all you do.
Peggo