They say that scents are powerful and can instantly transport you back to certain moments of your life. I completely agree with that. I would also add that songs do the same thing, especially if you’re physically present in a location similar to where you heard or sang them. This is especially true for me in church.
If you’re an empty nester, chances are one or both of your parents are gone. As many readers know, I lost my mother a little over a year ago and my father back in 1993. All three of us regularly attended church from the time I was 5 until I graduated college at age 21.
I’ve had to be on guard for almost 30 years now for when the song “Precious Lord” is in the lineup at mass in any Catholic church I attend. My dad loved to sing that hymn on his Omnichord back in the 80s. (Side note, Suzuki is reproducing this electronic instrument again this year. That will be hard for me to see.)
Thankfully, most churches don’t sing this one anymore. On the rare occasions when they do, I must find where my tissues are buried within my purse. Even if I don’t sing it, which I can rarely do without a tremendous lump forming in my throat, the tears will fall.
Other songs, like “Make me a Channel of Your Peace” or “Let There Be Peace on Earth” are often in the lineup. These songs take me back to when I was a child sitting between my parents. Dad would always wear his old grey cardigan, which my mother wasn’t a fan of, and whip out his reading glasses. Mom would wear a dress and look beautiful. They both were wonderful singers.
Sometimes I don’t even remember certain songs I sang with my parents until it’s too late and I’m in the midst of one of them. This happened to me last Saturday evening. In fact, I can’t even tell you what song made my eyes begin to leak.
Suddenly, the lyrics and music of that final hymn that evening took me back in time. I could hear Mom and Dad’s voices in my head. My own began to crack and I struggled to continue. I finally gave up and was wiping my eyes when John, one of my church friends, came up to chat with me.
“You’ll have to excuse me, John,” I said, “Some songs just make me think of my parents and I start crying.” John looked at me with eyes of understanding.
“I get it, Amy, I get it,” he said kindly.
While these moments are hard, I’m incredibly grateful for them. I know they’re glimpses of when I’ll be reunited with Mom and Dad in Heaven. And some day, we’ll pick up those hymnals, Dad will adjust his glasses, Mom will radiate beauty, and we’ll raise our voices to God together once again.