A Little Music is Good for the Soul

The last time I saw my Dad a friend of mine, with whom I am in a band and myself, played music at Sentry Hill. It was two Sunday afternoon's ago. We set up in front of the residence with guitars, a PA and played for two hours. I have never played in front of Alzheimer's patients before but recommend it to anyone who is a musician or a wannabe.

These people were not free to come and go as they please, as in bars which I have played in the past. Nope, most cannot get out of a seat. Those in a seat, like a wheel chair have not enough strength to make haste for a getaway. So there they sat before us, my Father included. And we played for them. From our hearts.

As we played the help gathered around as well and it became quite cozy. We received delightful applause and occasional hoots and yipeeeees. It was a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

My Dad and I at Sentry Hill in York Harbor, Maine

Since, I received two calls from Sentry Hill. The first was to inform me my father had swatted his lower false teeth out of an attendent's hands and broke one of the teeth. The second was that he fell into a fireplace as he tried to pet a dog which someone brought into visit the old people. He possibly lost his balance while bending over.

I miss my Dad alot. I miss my sons as well. It has been very strange to have two sons who are prospering at college and a Father who is declining monthly. They are all beyond my reach in a tangible way. And we are all disconnected from the family cohesiveness that I once enjoyed so much.

My oldest son has created an album that is very beautiful. Take a listen, it is peaceful and soothing...http://whorl.bandcamp.com/

I have recently been visited by my mother. She came by work unexpectedly. She asked if she could speak with me. I had a premonition that she may want to reconcile our differences. But no, her agenda was only remotely relevant to me. In fact she told me I was lying about so many things that I made her leave. It is odd to feel no love from a person, let alone my mother. I cannot get around the idea that she visited me and didn't bother to inquire about how I have been or share concerns, thoughts or anything about me. When I brought something up or replied to her questions she said only, "you are making that up," or "that's a lie."

My mother is an enigma to me and her actions become increasingly unresolved when opportunity favors her. There are few people in life that I get such little feeling from. Many complete strangers offer far more compassion and love. Thank God.