Summer with David
Different songs reminds me of different phases of my life. There are songs that remind me of the summer I met David. In fact, David compiled those songs on a tape called “Summer 96”. There are songs that remind me of our wedding, becoming parents, and many other happy occasions.
There are also songs that remind me of unhappier times. Songs that remind me of how we tried to find strength after we got news that the cancer reoccured. There are songs l listened to frequently in the final stages of the disease. I recall the trip to the emergency room late last year, for the first time I was truly afraid that David may not come back home. I wept all the way to the hospital as I listened to a song in the car by Passenger, titled “let her go”.
Contrary to the title, it did not mean I was ready to let go. To me, the lyrics focused more on love and how much more you appreciate someone when you are afraid of losing them. I was so afraid of losing David – his smile, his voice, his energy, his love.
Songs have a way of bringing me smiles or sadness. A song can brings smiles at one moment and at another moment, the same song can bring tears and sadness. Today, as I drove with my daughters, one of our songs from Summer 96 came on and before I could change it, my older daughter started crying and said “NO, turn it off, that is one of Daddy’s songs and it is making me sad”.
Clearly, the song was having a similar effect on both of us today. For me, it was a reminder of my carefree years – when i felt invincible – contrary to the vulnerability I was feeling today. For my daughter, it was a reminder that Daddy no longer plays his songs in the house. So we changed to a song that reminded of us of our vacation earlier in the year.
Overall, the comfort from listening to songs surpasses any emotional anguish. David enjoyed his music. He played it loudly when he could. He collected them in different formats including the retro records and tapes. I thank David for broadening my taste in music. I also know that I influenced him with some of my musical preferences.
VICTORY CHEST 
Hello,
I’ve been following your posts of love, loss, hope, growth, letting go and moving on and while my spirit grieves for you and your adorable daughters, I admire your will to get through the obstacles and the triumphs of each and every day. I know that your husband is watching you hold the family together while holding him closely to you.
I wanted to write to tell you that music is all the things you describe in your post. It can soothe, it can bring you to tears, laughter, dredge up memories (good, bad and indifferent), bring closure and all things like that. There was a song that my grandmother and I shared until she passed in 2012 that for about a year after she left us, I didn’t have the heart to listen to. It wasn’t until right after what would have been her 93rd birthday this year that I came across that song and played it. At first it whipped through me like a dagger because I miss her so. I listened again later that day and it didn’t hurt as badly, I only cried for about 2 minutes of the song instead of the whole 5:13. It’s hard to believe that loss finds a place to rest where it stops depleting our sense of peace.
You and your girls remain in my prayers.