My mom was raised a devout Christian and I remember hours of listening to her hum or softly sing worship songs my whole growing up.
No matter what activity she would do she would eventually start singing a song of praise and worship to make the task go quickly.
I loved her voice and she would often pick out harmony notes to anyone who was singing. It’s one of those “peaceful happy” memories I have of her.
This afternoon as we were heading back home she had started to get restless and angry. So I turned on Deva Premal in the car. She sings sacred songs of Sanskrit. As soon as I turned it on, even though my mom didn’t know the words and couldn’t speak them even if she did, she picked up the tune and sang along in her jumbled word salad.
Her tone blended beautifully and hearing it made the tears well up. Completely oblivious of me she was in worship mode. She sang and sang and I felt like I was sitting in a church service just for me.
When we pulled into the driveway she asked if we could sit in the car and just enjoy the moment. Or at least that’s what I pieced together from her words and motions. We sat and enjoyed the quiet.
It was a moment that reminded me of the power of music. That it is a universal language that requires no words to get the feeling, the message, across. It certainly crossed the Alzheimer’s Border this evening.
Lost In Thought 