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In Reply to: Re: Sorry to hear that posted by Farmer on November 28, 2009 at 02:38:04:
Funerals can be touching and priests have a way of saying just the right things, sometimes. It's a pity that it takes someone dying for us to appreciate them, to realize how much we love them, because we are busy with the daily grind of life, or distracted by silly little quarrels. I am glad for you were on good terms with your mother before she died.
This last year, several friends have died or are dying due to cancer. A few of them were/are celebrities. A few weeks ago, it got me down when it felt like good friends all around me were just dropping like flies.
Two weeks ago I mourned "retroactively," the death of my childhood best friend. He had a unique name and I was really happy to have found him on facebook. But when I wrote to him, his brother wrote back explaining that he had created an account in his name, and that he had actually died way back in 1988, mysteriously, just one week after his wedding. His bruised body had been found just outside his home.
At a recent funeral of a Gospel singer, great musicians and performers turned out in honor of her. The music was really moving. Afterwards, there was a real loving spirit at the reception, when her family shared things about her life that made us all realize that the way we'd all experienced her just the same way they did. She was a motherly, sisterly, mentor type to many, not just her own family. Later that evening, her musician friends gathered at a club and broke into spontaneous joyful celebrations. Celebrity musicians from all over the world joined in and performed. I found myself singing silly little songs I swore I'd never ever be caught singing again.
Another close musician friend of mine is dying of terminal cancer. She was supposed to have gone a few months ago, but carries on today. Music is what keeps her alive. She was born shortchanged, with some genetic defects and had suffered health problems all her life. Her weekly schedule included seeing about 10 different specialists. But she had always stayed positive, fighting and training, doing what she could to stay healthy. I lived with her for almost 2 years when we shared an apartment, and she never once complained about anything. What is sad is that she had had a chance to deal with her cancer early on, when she first reported symptoms and requested tests. But she was neglected by doctors on holiday, and the attending physicians sent her home with paracetamol. By the time she was properly tested and diagnosed a few months later, the cancer had spread to her pancreas and was terminal. I went to her "death bed" at the hospital to see her for the "last time" when she weighed 89 lbs (37 kg). I took out my Rubik's Cube and solved it in front of her in a matter of minutes. Looking into her widening eyes, I said, "anything is possible!" We sat quietly for a long time, she with one hand holding mine and the other holding the cube. Then she showed me the artwork for an album she was trying to finish and release before dying. Now, a few months later she has not only survived to release the album, but has been performing weekly at different venues and on the radio. She has regained a little bit of weight and is even talking about her next album. Although she is tiny and frail, this big amazing voice comes out of somewhere deep within. This is it for her. It's serious now. The days she has left, she wants to give it her all. So she sings and plays from a place that she never could before, when life was "endless." Music was never as real to her as it is now.
