Music, Tears and Gratitude

Mostly I am “okay”. Home and putting things away that Henry had saved for me. A three-week road trip which in many ways felt like an inner pilgrimage. Even though I was on the road I couldn’t really just leave everything indefinitely so instead I just tried to hold an open space for myself on the inside.

And like I said, mostly I am “okay.” And then there are those moments, which come further and further apart but still arrive… when I hear a piece of music like this and I am hit with a tidal wave of sadness and gut-wrenching tears. I am grateful that I can allow myself to feel and cry when I need to.

Grateful for the power music has to pick us up, carry us on a river of emotions and drop us on the other shore!

Heartsease

I have spent the morning going through old photos and long threads of texts with both Henry and my sister Jenny who passed on October 18 and October 20 respectively. Somehow as I was uploading pictures onto my computer I was reminded of a beautiful chant I learned at kirtan camp several years ago. I decided to see if I could find a version of it on YouTube. It took a bit of searching but eventually I found it. It’s so beautiful. It seems like one of those chants that could easily make you weep- maybe I’ve just wept enough tears in the last two weeks to last me for a while. Anyway, all I felt when I began listening to it was the sweetest softening of the heart and so much peace.

After my mother died I rented an apartment in a beautiful old Victorian house in Newport called “Heartsease”. The name was so perfect and appropriate for the time. That is what I feel when I hear this chant.

Expanding the Boundaries of the Heart

Jenny and Henry, Ipswich 2011

On October 18 my former live-in partner and still beloved Henry Steffes passed away. The day after he passed I was on the phone with my sister Jenny who was undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer. The chemo was rough but she never complained. On that day, Saturday, October 19 I was on my way to North Carolina, driving. I thought I would be helping Henry get back on his feet but that was not to be. He had already passed by the time I hit the halfway mark on the road. Jenny and i had a long conversation full of laughter. She loved Henry, as all who knew him did, and he made her laugh. She apologized saying, ”I’m sorry- I can’t help it. he was so funny. Whenever I think of him I start laughing.” Periodically I would apologize to her. I knew she had had a chemo treatment only two days earlier and must have been feeling awful but each time I would try to get off the phone she’d say “Oh don’t worry about me” and would continue the conversation. She passed the following night.

In 2011 Henry and I went up to Massachusetts to converge with Jenny at my mother’s house. One bright fall day we had a long lovely walk in Ipswich near Crane Beach. It was a memorable day full of beauty, laughter and a sense of camaraderie.

My head has been filled with snippets of various songs since they passed. “Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind…” (Beatles)
“Death is unreal, that’s the way I feel.
There’s more to be revealed.
Lovers and friends meet again and again on the dear old battlefield…” (Incredible String Band)

Words I have heard over and over in the past week to describe Henry- kind, gentle, caring…. Jenny- wise, witty, warm… Two beauties… I feel the boundaries of my heart being pushed wider and wider- at first I thought the aching might hurt too much but it only lets in more love and gratitude.