My father-in-law passed away last month. He was 90, had a failing heart, diabetes and a range of other health issues. He didn’t want to die, or, more correctly, he wanted to go on living. He had his children and grandchildren that he didn’t want to leave. His was still writing jazz tunes and playing music and there was still more music to be written and played. There were books to be read. There were things to do.
We don’t think about death that much when we are young or even when we are older. My father-in-law didn’t seem to. He hadn’t put any arrangements in place for his funeral, had left no indication of what kind of service he wanted. It is amazing how many little things needed to be decided – headstones, caskets, plots to be selected, music to be played. And all the time we were wondering ‘What would he like?”
Like her father, my wife is also a musician. She hasn’t felt much like playing music or singing since his death, such is her sadness.
I too am sad. Although I have never lost a parent or a child or a sibling and so I guess can only imagine the pain she is feeling, I also feel pain at his passing.
My disease puts a focus on death. Cancer sufferers talk about survival rates and try to forget that death is always one of the possible outcomes. Like my father-in-law, I also haven’t made any arrangements apart from a Will, which was put together long before I was diagnosed. My wife and I have discussed funerals but the reality of dying isn’t there deep enough for us to do anything about it. So, we haven’t bought a plot or designed headstones or selected the music to be played or anything like that.
I think the avoidance comes from an innate optimism that we can work through all the ‘stuff’ life throws up and come out the other side, maybe with a few bruises but otherwise okay. At least, most of the time I feel optimistic. There are still times when the whole thing seems too much and the dog is scratching at the door – little scenarios fill my mind and it becomes hard to put the kettle on and start another day.
My father-in-law’s band mates played at his funeral – his music; songs he had penned over the years. People listened and smiled. As I listened I remembered him at our place, working on some melody at the piano or sitting at the kitchen table discussing augmented fifths or writing out chord diagrams or bass runs for me to try.
I want to be like him. I want to keep playing music, writing songs, being with my family, being out in the world, living.
Here's a link to me jamming on my father-in-law's double bass and a classical guitar.
Here's a link to me jamming on my father-in-law's double bass and a classical guitar.
