I Wish You Music

There is a line in my novel MOTHER OF RAIN about how a girl never forgets the day her momma dies. I actually wrote that line years before my own mother died. Today is the anniversary of Mama’s death. Anniversaries of such deaths are often difficult no matter what time of year it happens, but they do seem more pronounced during the holidays.

I’ve read several posts this week of parents grieving the loss of a child and friends grieving the death of a spouse. Sunday a week ago a dear friend’s husband died unexpectedly. It’s been a rough go lately. I often feel as though I am speaking into the life of my own mother when spending time with someone grieving. I consider it an honor to be that person who picks. up the phone. As I told my girlfriend this week, I can’t fix this for you but I will sit in the dark with you.

As Mama faced her own death, we had long talks about heaven and what it would be like. I’m not a believer in streets of gold and mansions in gated communities. I much prefer my own brother’s interpretation: Wherever God is, Mama will be there.

I know God must find Mama to be entertaining. She always could make me laugh. When I told her that I prayed to Daddy over the years and thought he could see everything I was doing, she responded that she hoped he couldn’t see everything she’d done over the years. We both laughed over that. Mama had plenty of good reason to hope Daddy couldn’t see everything she’d done since he died.

Rarely have I dreamed of Mama since she died. I don’t find her presence in pennies or butterflies. I don’t ever feel like she’s nearby. I suppose if anyone deserves to rest, it was Mama. She worked her tailend off while she was alive. I’m okay with her not being bothered by any of us muddling our way through this life.

I don’t make resolutions much, if ever, but one I’ve made since the election and will continue to carry out is to not get my tailfeathers all in a kerfluffle over the daily headlines or the daily troublemakers. I am going to enjoy what’s left of my life as best I am able. I’ve turned off the news in the car and in the house. I’ve deleted all the news aps from my phone. I refuse to let my life to be used up battling hateful people doing hateful things to others.

I’m done with the whole lot of them, both on the global scale and the local one. They will self-destruct. It’s inevitable. There are people who are just drawn to chaos. People for whom picking a fight, or staying in a constant state of conflict is their sport of choice. They actually get some adrenaline rush from being angry at their parents, or their siblings, or their spouses, or their inlaws, or their cousins, or the pastor, or the boss, or the lib next door. Those people are exhausting.

I just am not going to spend my life’s energy trying to make peace with such people. Instead, I’m going to ignore them. Like the Breck girl used to sing: I’m going to wash that man right out of my hair.

One lesson Mama taught me that has served me well my whole life long is to not suffer fools. Life’s too short for that. So instead of listening to news, this former journalist has been tuning into a lot more music. And I don’t just mean Christmas carols. In addition to watching Beyonce’s incredible half-time Christmas Day performance, I’ve been listening to Lake Street Dive‘s tunes. I’ve long wished that life could be one long musical.

Music is actually healthy for us. Listening to music can lower blood pressure, reduce one’s heart rate, and reduce our stress hormones while increasing the levels of serotonin and endorphins in our systems. Whereas the news has the opposite effect.

So it is in that spirit that my wish for all of us for 2025 is more music, more singing, more dancing. Tune out the chaos and tune into a recognition that you don’t have time to suffer fools either. We can still chart our way forward in hope and joy for a brighter tomorrow.

You matter. Never lose sight of that. Here’s to a 2025 filled with more music.

Karen Spears Zacharias

Author/Journalist/Educator. Gold Star Daughter.

3 Comments

Scottie Kersta-Wilson

about 1 month ago

I don't see my Ma either; she, like yours, deserves the rest! Thanks for this lovely musing.

Reply

Karen Spears Zacharias

about 1 month ago

You are welcome. Our mommas deserve the peace of not worrying about us anymore. Hugs.

Reply

Barbara Andersen

about 1 month ago

Oh, Karen, I wish we lived in the same neighborhood & could converse daily. So many things you write are in my own heart. My mother died on December 23rd, 25 years ago. Like you I rarely dream of her or feel her presence but carry her inside. So glad she has missed the last 8 years. Will try to dance each day to Lake Street Dive or someone!

Reply

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