When a Song Tells Your Story

Photo by Simon Shim on Unsplash

When in Darkness, Santa Cruz

It was one of those days you read about or saw on a postcard from the California Coast.

I can see her face in my mind. The wind whipped her magical silver hair around her beautifully seasoned face. The windows were down on Kathy’s old two-door Honda, letting in the sea air. It smelled like life-giving sunshine from the ocean when it hit my face.

We followed along the 101, smiling at the day and taking in the moment. We didn’t get to be present with each other often, living in different states now. She had encouraged me to stop in Santa Cruz on my way to Southern California to see my parents. It was a welcome invitation from an old friend.

Kathy had been like a sister, mother, and guide in my tumultuous life. I stumbled upon her as a fellow traveler in my early 20s, living out of my VW bus. It was dangerous for a somewhat naive young woman to live the lifestyle I had chosen, even in 2001. Nevertheless, there were people out there somehow looking out for us kids. People like Kathy. Shining lights in the dark forest. She was still doing exactly that, no matter the passing of time.

This trip was memorable, a time of significant life introspection. Kathy knew I needed Santa Cruz.

I had spent the last six months nursing the wounds of my lost child, the loss of my decade-long job, and trying to grapple with what had happened in the previous decade of my marriage. Furthermore, after years of disappointment, I had given up on the dream I had had so many years earlier of her face, a daughter. I had now accepted that I would not become a mother. It was time to move on.

• • •

Love and Light

There she was, Kathy, smiling in the sunshine, driving us along the winding coast to her favorite beach to find some treasures. The thing about Kathy was that it didn’t matter what anyone had done or been through. She saw the light in everyone and everything and radiated it back to all who crossed her path. When parting ways, she always said, “Love and light, bye for now.” She never believed there was an end to a conversation or shared experience.

One of our favorite songs came on the radio: Ripple by the Grateful Dead. We sang the familiar words as she pulled off the road to a little farm stand and shut off the car. I see her tilt her head, singing each word as if it belonged to me — my message from her heart to mine. The words were precisely for me at that moment. My heart burst as I sang them, too. She would lead me if she knew the way, but this path was for my steps alone.

We got our fresh jam made with Santa Cruz berries, found beautiful treasures combing beaches, slept in, napped, and ate delicious, healthy food. I even made a personal running record, empowered by the ocean, the sight of surfers, a lighthouse, and the breath of the sea filling my lungs. I ran and ran, feeling the darkness slowly leave me. She was the medicine I needed on my way to my mother’s healing embrace. 

• • •

Unexpected

Through a simple twist of fate, those were my daughter’s first weeks of life. I didn’t know it then, but she was with me, feeling the energy of the California sun, beautiful music, and our dear Kathy not only restoring life into me but nurturing the life newly growing there.

Three years later, I went to see Kathy again, this time with my little girl. No one knew how much time she had left. The diagnosis had come suddenly, only weeks ago. Her positivity and hope left everyone in the dark about the gravity of the situation. Consequently, when I arrived, it was clear. Hospice had already set up shop in her home.

Bye for Now

She woke up weak, yellow, and distressingly thin, having been in and out of consciousness for days. She had not known I was coming, and this was her first time meeting my daughter. The joy that welcomed us was overwhelming. We spent the day talking and doing puzzles with my daughter, and I helped her eat some much-needed food.

In the following days, Kathy would not wake again. Fortunately, before returning to Oregon, I had the chance to spend a few quiet moments with her. The sun and ocean breeze were coming through her window, and her room was full of hundreds of her treasures: rocks, shells, crystals, rare gems, tie-dyes, books, and trinkets.

Many years before, Kathy had told me that when she died, she requested Jerry Garcia be played on her grave. I sat on the side of her bed, grabbed her hands, looked at her beautifully seasoned face and magical silver hair, and played our song, Ripple. I sang all the words; I knew every single one so well.

This time, they were for her. If I knew the way, Kathy, I would lead you home. But this path is for your steps alone, your beautiful ripple in still water. Without opening her eyes, she squeezed my hands, and a smile came across her face. She knew, and she was there with me.

Our final goodbye was quick. As more people streamed in and out to bid farewells, it was time for me to go. I whispered in her ear as I bent down to embrace her, surrounded by many others, “There is nothing I can say now that you don’t already know. Bye for now.”

• • •

New Light

A few months ago, my daughter and I were winding down the familiar country road to her special little charter school. It was one of those mornings you read about in the Pacific Northwest. Trees surrounded the road, and the sky was filled with clouds. The sun forced its way through in an explosion of light beams on the road. Steam rose off the road as the scant sun heated the watered ground.

Like any other morning, our ritual was to go through playlists, find new songs, or play some of our favorites. When we stumbled on my old familiar song, the words easily came to me, a flood of old memories once again. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw my daughter’s beautiful, young face and sparkling hazel eyes smiling at me. I sang her the words as if they were her own, although they were a hand-me-down.

My heart once again burst as the words brought to the surface all the feelings that were so hard to describe. I have come full circle by something so simple, a song, and I’m so grateful. These words are for her now, and I mean them with all my heart. Do you hear my words coming through the music? Please hold them near my dear daughter as if they are yours. May your cup always be full.

• • •

The Song Goes On

Over the years, I have held the song close to me. It’s in nearly every playlist I have. The tune has carried me away in dark times, made me strong when I felt weak, and made me smile during extraordinary times. Ever since that magical day in Santa Cruz, I have always thought of Kathy when I hear our song. I hear her voice in the words, and I’m renewed and honored to have been graced by her light.

Nowadays, though, my memory is followed by a new one. My little girl’s face smiles back at me, feeling the love so deeply I send her way, and she radiates that light right back to me. She is now that beacon in the world, one to light up the dark forest for others. Love and Light, as Kathy would say.

Click here if you would like to hear Ripple by the Grateful Dead.

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