I’ve never sung to anyone before.
But I sang to my mother.
Sitting beside her coffin, my hand resting on her cold, cold shoulder, I stared at her new form, feeling all crumpled and small. The computer played softly on a nearby flower stand, the music already queued for when her guests arrived.
In a broken, child-sounding voice, I found myself singing along.
Sing me back home with a song I used to hear Make my old memories come alive Take me away and turn back the years Sing me back home before I die
My mother was already dead, but I sang her home anyway.
I didn’t realize this was a significant moment, but now that I’m months into this thing, I know it was a significant moment.
Here’s to you if you go with your gut. If you grab those flashes, even when you don’t know they’re flashes, or understand what they mean.