The Good Stuff ~ Music

I have learned the roughness of grief, is something that can have its pointy edges smoothed... by the calming melodies of song.  If I feel inundated with anguish, the first thing I reach for is a CD to bring solace back into my often chaotic world.

Last night, I attended -along with my partner- a concert. I am passionate about music as I am about my writing. Prior to Shayla’s death, our presence at a multitude of shows was  something I treasured. From country to rock, pop to folk infused with the blues, music uplifted me in many ways. My scrapbooks are filled with a variety of ticket stubs that displays my eclectic blend of artists I listen to.

Going to a concert with Shayla was like having your own one-woman powerhouse show, beside you. She would belt the lyrics out-loud, shake and shimmy, while woo-hoo’s were yelled out to the stage. Over the years, we made posters together to hold up and one night, my daughter’s dream of meeting a performer came true. We were seeing Jann Arden perform, with Shayla all revved up for the show. As Jann cracked jokes and eased the audience into a level of comfort that she was well- known for, she spotted my daughter, holding up a poster. Jann then called Shayla on stage and I thought my babygirl was going to trip, as she bolted front and centre. Jann engaged in friendly banter with my daughter and later signed a poster for her. Many locals saw Shayla and she was delighted when someone would say: “Hey, aren’t you the girl who met Jann Arden?”

 Over the years, we started a tradition that saw us connect, even when we were not together at a concert. Each one of us would ring up the other person and play a popular tune by the artist. I received random calls once in awhile, where all I could hear was screaming and distorted music in the background. I would then be reminded that Shayla was somewhere at a concert, singing her heart out and thinking of her momma.

Two days before she passed away, I was watching STING perform his endless hits. I could not get a hold of her, so I recorded parts of “Every Breath You Take and Roxanne, on my cell phone.” These were both of Shayla’s favourites.  I smiled, knowing that in only 2 weeks, I would see her in person and play the songs to her.

Life sometimes has a twisted way of taking something you revered and turning it into a catalyst of pain.  After Shayla passed away, I found these short clips on my phone and had a meltdown. She would never see or hear the words of stuff that mattered to us.

The first concert after she was gone, I found myself instantly reaching for my phone to call her. A lump seemed to be caught in my throat and then a sinking feeling overcame me. I had been robbed of these special moments, stripped of a bond between mother and child. It would take months for me to realize that I needed to focus on what I had with my beloved daughter and not spend wasteless time on what was no longer.

Yesterday, when I was at the Snow Patrol / Noel Gallagher concert, I closed my eyes a lot…I traded seeing the concert in order to “feel” it. Suddenly, the hit Chasing Cars began and I purposely grabbed my cell phone and started to record. I knew it would never be the same, as it was with Shayla. Yet, I seized the opportunity to do something in the present that still connected me to my past; to continue a tradition that evoked joy for Shayla and me.

One of the new songs I had not heard was called: “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” As Snow Patrol sang the words, I let the melody settle in to me. I was blown away by how it reminded me of my own unknown grief journey. The parts of losing time and there are strangers everywhere struck a chord. When Shayla died, people of authority had evaded my personal space. Strangers were standing in MY home, whispering amongst themselves or offering assistance. All I wanted to do was “keel over” and how one moment in time had imploded my world from the inside out. Yet, the possibility of help right at my fingertips was something I yearned for. On December 12, 2011, there was a woman Police Officer who said some private, heartfelt words that I continue to cherish.  While everyone else was standing over me, hovering, she kneeled by my side and her friendly face was also covered in tears. Offering her hand and a moment of compassion; made all of the difference when my heart was shattered into fragments.

With music, the beauty of endless meanings interrelates to those who listen to it. When I first heard this song last night, it was as if that very Officer was trying to let me know… “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” This meant that although this tragedy would forever be a part of my existence, death could not ever steal away, what Shayla and I shared.

By T L. Alton

“This Isn’t Everything You Are” By Snow Patrol

You’ve been up all night, and the night before

You’ve lost count of drinks and time

And your friends keep calling, worried sick

And there are strangers everywhere…

Don’t keel over now

Don’t keel over

And in one little moment

It all implodes

But this isn’t everything you are

Breathe deeply in the silence

No sudden moves

This isn’t everything you are

Just take the hand that’s offered

And hold on tight

This isn’t everything you are

There’s joy not far from here, right

I know there is

This isn’t everything you are…