Tuesday, July 7, 2009

The Day the Music Died....

A long long time ago
I can still remember
how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.....Don McLean, American Pie

A long, long, time ago...there was a girl who loved music more than anything else in the world. She couldn't draw, she wasn't a gifted athlete, she wasn't overly popular in school, but she could sing. That girl was me. At one time in my life, music was everything to me, and it was something I didn't have to work on, it came naturally. Some people are artistically inclined, I was musically inclined. I could play the piano by ear, joined band in elementary school when most kids were taking it in grade ten and in my grade twelve year had two choir classes. I dreamed of going to Juilliard and one day singing on Broadway. I loved musicals and Broadway shows, sang every chance I got, went to every audition in highschool for anything that required singing. My friends used to ask me when I was going to do something with my voice and I shrugged them off like it was no big deal to me. My jazz choir teacher compared my voice to the late Karen Carpenter and gave me everything I auditioned for. I once made a music video for Shaw cable during their Drug Awareness campaign years ago and sang the national anthems for the US and Canada two years in a row at a banquet held for drug addicted youth to celebrate their sobriety. My dreams of Juilliard died when I went to live with my father. It was a struggle just to stay in school while I lived with him. Most nights I babysat long into the night to earn money for myself and to take care of my basic needs. My dad was an alcoholic and took custody of me when my mother felt she could no longer care for me because of her MS. Truthfully, all I was to him at the time was an extra couple hundred dollars on his welfare check. Babysitting was a way for me to get out of the house and away from him when he drank. It was a way for me to wash my clothes and eat a meal. Most times he stole my money anyways, but I worked to have clean clothes and something other than hotdogs and Kraft dinner once in awhile. The late nights affected my schooldays alot of the time, but it was far better than staying at home. I pushed my dreams to the backburner and figured I would pick them up again one day when things were more stable in my life. It never happened for me, but I continued my love of music throughout the years, going to concerts, dancing the nights away in the nightclubs, going to musicals and writing songs with my friend Jeff late at night in my apartment. I lived through music. When Lorelei was born I sang to her constantly, making up lullabies, singing her silly songs to make her smile and laugh. I sang to her about everything. She learned to dance at a young age and loved to dance with her daddy and "shake her tailfeathers" to a groovy beat. I realized the other day while I was holding Georgia that I haven't sang in months. I don't think I've sung much since she's been born. I think the music went out of my heart the day my son died. It's surprising to me that something I love so much can disappear from my life so suddenly without thought. I guess these past months I've been preoccupied with Calvin's death so much that alot of the joy that lived in my soul has vanished. I miss the music in my life, I miss the feeling of exhiliaration it brought. I'm saddened that I've been unable to share this vital part of myself with Georgia, that she's missed out on the happier, lighthearted side of her mother. I need to find it again, find myself in all of this. I need to sing and dance and learn to love life again without my son. I miss myself.


  1. I just want to give you a big hug ...and let you know iam sorry ...and my preys our with you

  2. Oh Margaret - I miss myself too. From what I know of you, your 'new' self is beautiful and strong and sensitive. I'm sure that the music will come back into your life, in time and when you are ready.

    Hugs to you, friend.

  3. I hope you can rediscover the music in your life, maybe you could write a song for Calvin. I sing silly songs all the time to my cats, I hope to one day have children I can embarrass with my silly songs. I'm thinking about you and sending you hugs.

  4. If I were you, I would put on music every morning. It may encourage you to let loose and sing. Your lighter side will come back. Music is like energy, it cannot stop, only change forms.
    Your music may be more subtle now, more melodic, but it's there.
    I'm sorry you miss yourself. You'll find your old joy seeping in someday.
    Love you girl..

    ( I have always wanted to dance but never have. I'm afraid to let go or look stupid.)

  5. I hope the music comes back to you soon, I think perhaps it will now that you have noticed it's absence.


  6. After I lost my child, I feel I can never be the same again. Music was very much part of my life too, but it has disappeared after Akul. I understand how you feel. The only music I now listen to is hymns...they bring many tears to my eyes but also soothe me.
    Hugsss from one mother to another.