M. put a James Taylor CD on the other day, and all of a sudden, he was crying.
"Maybe this CD wasn't such a good idea," he said.
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway
A song that they sing when they take to the sea
A song that they sing of their home in the sky
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
But singing works just fine for me
Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Wont you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James...
I know what he means. I don't yet have "triggers" for my grief - because everything is a trigger. I'm creating triggers with everything I say or do. That includes everything I choose to watch or listen to right now. It makes me afraid to turn on the TV or the radio, to tell you the truth. I don't want to forever associate James Taylor (a man I normally love to listen to sing) with the death of my baby.
And I know, if I play it too often, I will. I have a soundtrack in my head to all sorts of tragedy and joy in my life. There are songs I associate with all sorts of things, from my wedding, to the births of my children, to the sorrow of losing my best friend to breast cancer. They all have artists or songs associated with them, and they weren't necessarily conscious choices. Weird as it may sound, anything by Sarah MacLachlan is now ruined for me, because it makes me think about the year of my divorce. I almost wish I hadn't listened to her so much during that time...but I did. And now, she's forever associated in my mind to a great deal of pain.
So mostly I sit in silence, or watch reruns of shows or listen to music I never had much chance of liking anyway. But I found myself singing along to James Taylor and feeling something in me opening that I thought had been forever closed. It was almost...dare I say it?...healing, that singing, letting my voice rise and fall, a lullaby sung to comfort myself.
I wish I had a playlist for this. Do they make one? "Songs for Mothers with Dead Babies." How terribly morbid. And yet...strangely necessary. Any ideas?
