I believe music can soothe the soul. My mother is a violinist and as I grew up she felt the desire to have music be apart of her childrens lives. She taught that music could be a form of support, especially during times of fear or pain. Through my life I have found her teachings to be true.
At fifteen, after being dragged and trampled by a horse, I was bedridden with nothing more to do then lay motionless. Music gave me a diversion from excruciating pain. At night, when I cried in my sleep from movement, my sister would hum to me until the pain eased.
At seventeen, enduring a high school breakup left me distraught. I turned to music and let Red jumpsuit apparatus and Camille Saint Saens ease my throbbing heart and tears.
A month before I turned eighteen provided one of my greatest tribulations. A phone call while I was at work informed me of the news that my grandpa had been taken to the E.R. and was now in the I.C.U. I was told to stay at work and head home afterwards, my mom and sister would join me. Crying was not an option while I was at work, so I turned up the stereo and let the beats distract my mind. Driving home I joined along with the blaring radio and sang along in competition with the artists that flowed through my speakers.
As I opened the door to my house I was welcomed by the sound of a violin. My mom always pulled out her violin when something had troubled her and this was one of those times. I joined her and sang along until we both had calmed our nerves.
Weeks passed, he was getting better only to be plummeted into a far worse condition the next time we heard any news. As we celebrated Christmas, our mood was melancholy. We were used to our celebration being held at my grandparents, but with my grandpa still in the hospital that was not an option. My younger sister sat holding the last present to be opened as she voiced her concern that something felt bad. Seconds later the phone rang confirming my sister’s suspicion. My grandpa had taken a turn for the worse, we we’re needed at the hospital.
Sitting in the car on the way to the hospital felt like driving to a funeral. I plugged into my Zune and let the beautiful melodies convince me that all would be well. Two days of sitting in the hospital, leaving only for sleep had left everyone exhausted. I was rarely with out headphones in, and when the two am phone call came that they were removing life support and that our presence was required, it was no exception. A week later at the funeral I hummed all the way through it. I needed my support then.
Music has been there to constantly soothe me.
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