I’m so sorry for your loss, Elisabeth. The finality of death is something I’m still grappling with. You express it so beautifully here. I can’t imagine the strength it took for you to play that song on that day but I know after writing and somehow reading a eulogy for my father out loud at his celebration of life, impossible things somehow become possible.
Music has been a huge factor in my healing and grieving. Here’s a playlist I made to express the grief and gratitude after that loss.
Thank you so much for sharing your playlist. Opening up creatively to perform or to write a eulogy or however we might do that (and making a meaningful playlist is also a creative act) is so exposing but there is so much healing in that energy too.
Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I am a huge believer that age is no barrier to lifelong music making and creativity, and I am thrilled you are playing Bach at nearly 80. My passion is teaching people like you. In fact, the oldest person ever to come on one of my courses was 93! He was a legend and had my absolute respect. In his professional life, he had been a recording engineer at EMI and had worked with people like Maria Callas.
Thank you so much Angela. I’m so happy that my words have connected like this. For me that desire to keep creating is very much a sense that this is the life essence, our vital energy in the world. In times of sadness, it’s what keeps us moving forward.
What a beautiful post, Elisabeth; you have written deep from your heart. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your Mother but how lovely you were able to play such a beautiful piece - and one she had loved and asked for - at her funeral. That must have meant so much. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this time. Viv (from Totteridge)
Elisabeth, I'm sorry for the loss of your mother. This piece was just lovely. And I resonated with your last lines, "The message is clear. Sorrow and yearning for what is past can ultimately only hold us back from the possibilities of our own joyful future.
We must play on. Embrace solace, create beauty, grasp life.
And always keep looking forward."
I am not a musician, though I play the piano at a very beginner level, and there is always something healing about sitting down and creating sound and music with the keys. Even when I play poorly, or it's a simple song. What you said about the soul coming through, it's true. Sometimes I write about music that moves me to tears and it's always about the soul of the musician, how I can feel that in their voice or their instrument, that intangible, liminal thing that connects humans with the wild grace of being able to make music.
Such a beautiful reflections here and a Gluck memory that will live with on in so many hearts, not the least of which is yours, Elisabeth. Thank you for sharing such a tough yet touching moment. Indeed, we all must play on for the spirit.
I am approaching 80 years old and have been playing the flute since I was 20, mostly not very well. I read your lovely post this morning as I was about to go off and play the Bach B minor Sonata with a lovely, kind professional pianist. What you write is so moving and beautiful. Thank you.
Your words paint a beautiful picture which resonates with others who have lost special people in their lives. Thank you. This really touched my inner world where memories of past loved ones are still very real yet desire to make the most of the life that I have left without them.
Thank you Liz. What I love about your comment is that it reminds us that music reaches out to us all and acts on each one of us in a different way. For one it might trigger a memory, for another it might be a sense of peace, for another a way of giving of themself.
A beautiful reminder, even if heartbreaking. Sorry for your loss.
Thank you for your kind words.
Thank YOU for your beautiful writing!
I’m so sorry for your loss, Elisabeth. The finality of death is something I’m still grappling with. You express it so beautifully here. I can’t imagine the strength it took for you to play that song on that day but I know after writing and somehow reading a eulogy for my father out loud at his celebration of life, impossible things somehow become possible.
Music has been a huge factor in my healing and grieving. Here’s a playlist I made to express the grief and gratitude after that loss.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5bXGb31Wa2AANbB85nd1M0?si=HHtRbiNIR7WttR0NNnm5NA&pi=u-bMqF7aBITemI
Thank you so much for sharing your playlist. Opening up creatively to perform or to write a eulogy or however we might do that (and making a meaningful playlist is also a creative act) is so exposing but there is so much healing in that energy too.
Music and poetry are special ways to pay homage to those who have left us.
Beautiful Elisabeth, I have tears.. x
Thank you Kathy. Your sensitive and insightful comments always mean a lot to me.
Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I am a huge believer that age is no barrier to lifelong music making and creativity, and I am thrilled you are playing Bach at nearly 80. My passion is teaching people like you. In fact, the oldest person ever to come on one of my courses was 93! He was a legend and had my absolute respect. In his professional life, he had been a recording engineer at EMI and had worked with people like Maria Callas.
Thank you so much Angela. I’m so happy that my words have connected like this. For me that desire to keep creating is very much a sense that this is the life essence, our vital energy in the world. In times of sadness, it’s what keeps us moving forward.
What a beautiful post, Elisabeth; you have written deep from your heart. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your Mother but how lovely you were able to play such a beautiful piece - and one she had loved and asked for - at her funeral. That must have meant so much. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this time. Viv (from Totteridge)
Elisabeth, I'm sorry for the loss of your mother. This piece was just lovely. And I resonated with your last lines, "The message is clear. Sorrow and yearning for what is past can ultimately only hold us back from the possibilities of our own joyful future.
We must play on. Embrace solace, create beauty, grasp life.
And always keep looking forward."
I am not a musician, though I play the piano at a very beginner level, and there is always something healing about sitting down and creating sound and music with the keys. Even when I play poorly, or it's a simple song. What you said about the soul coming through, it's true. Sometimes I write about music that moves me to tears and it's always about the soul of the musician, how I can feel that in their voice or their instrument, that intangible, liminal thing that connects humans with the wild grace of being able to make music.
Beautiful post. Thank you. I'm so sorry for your loss
Beautiful and honest, Elisabeth. Music truly can say things that words can't express.
Thank you Hannah. I found writing about it to be part of the healing process too.
Such a beautiful reflections here and a Gluck memory that will live with on in so many hearts, not the least of which is yours, Elisabeth. Thank you for sharing such a tough yet touching moment. Indeed, we all must play on for the spirit.
I am approaching 80 years old and have been playing the flute since I was 20, mostly not very well. I read your lovely post this morning as I was about to go off and play the Bach B minor Sonata with a lovely, kind professional pianist. What you write is so moving and beautiful. Thank you.
Your words paint a beautiful picture which resonates with others who have lost special people in their lives. Thank you. This really touched my inner world where memories of past loved ones are still very real yet desire to make the most of the life that I have left without them.
How beautifully you express your music.
My mother in law requested Bill Holcomb’s “Amazing Grace” at her funeral. Knowing how she loved that music gave us a peace.
Thank you Liz. What I love about your comment is that it reminds us that music reaches out to us all and acts on each one of us in a different way. For one it might trigger a memory, for another it might be a sense of peace, for another a way of giving of themself.
Beautiful and thought-provoking. Thank you!
Thank you, Jo.