Late last night, Fran and I talked about the children and how they are doing. I told her about the day and how I think Tara has a musical mind. I wondered aloud how I could help Tara express herself musically. I don’t have an ear for music. I am always amazed at the outcome of music but the mechanics elude me. I couldn’t even tune Tara’s ukulele. Thankfully she learned how to do it by the second week of lessons.
Fran agrees. I think she is a good judge of this, because she has a musical mind too. Fran has always found music to be a natural thing, almost a function of her biology. On the other hand, I might think occasionally that it would be nice to play a tune or two but I never really found solace in music. I rarely listen to music and if I have a choice between a music or talk radio station – I’ll pick talk radio (CBC of course) and if I don’t have the choice of talk, I would prefer silence. It’s not that I dislike music. I love to sing (rather badly) and dance (also rather badly) … I just don’t enjoy to just listen to it.
I may not understand music that well but I do understand Tara (sometimes), and I know that she feels music and thinks about music and sees music as well as hears music. She is musical. I think that music could be an outlet for her – but I’m not the person to help to get to the point where she can do it herself.
I asked you “How you feel music?”. You said that, for you, music is like air. With the right music, you feel you can breathe it in and it gives you energy and motivation. Tara definitely got her connection from music from you.
Last evening, Marianne dropped by with some very thoughtful presents for the children. A diary for Tara and a sketch pad for Quinn along with candy for you. Quinn took to the sketch pad right away. Tara wasn’t sure if a journal would be something she’d like to do. This morning before breakfast was finished, Tara was on page 2 of the journal and Quinn had drawn a portrait of a kid with a very big head with chicken pox.
They continued to draw in your room, sharing the sketchbook. Tara drew a family portrait with you in the bed and the three of us around your bed. Quinn drew a portrait of you, an aerial view of a hockey rink complete with a zamboni and a parking lot for disabled drivers. The pictures really say a lot. They both focus on your condition first. I suppose that is a natural thing to do but I would like them to see you first not your condition. We posted the pictures in your room.
Yesterday, while unpacking Christmas things, we found the Santa Claus ornament that you had as a child. It was made in Japan, so I think it is probably post Second World War. It is a model of a brick house with a chimney. A small Santa is at the end of a pull line coming out of the chimney. When you pull on the line a music box plays.
I think that this ornament represents many fun-filled happy Christmas memories for you. You have carefully treasured it all these years. It even has it’s original box. Fran told you yesterday that we found it and said the music was ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’, but you said it was ‘Jingle Bells’. You made a bet. You were right. (OK, maybe Fran isn’t so musical at times). You pointed out – like you normally would that you were right and Fran was wrong. A twist on the phrase I have hear many times about me being wrong. Quinn and I high-five your right hand. Another part of you is back.
While you were napping in the afternoon, I went home and looked for something to do. There are so many projects to work on but I needed one that took me outside in the fresh air and made me feel like I did something towards your recovery. I settled on putting up the outside Christmas decorations – this is something I have never done in November before. I am usually a Dec 10th to the 15th decorator but this year is different. Very different. This year I can’t wait until Christmas because you might be home with us.
I have everything up now. All plugged in and ready to go. But I have decided that I will not put on the lights until you can come home.
During dinner tonight, Quinn, being the joker that he is, tries to demonstrate how he can make ‘fart’ noises (Sorry DeeDee) in 12 different ways. I told him not to do that at the dinner table … I said that he should finish his dinner first before putting on a show. I think this would have been a proud father moment for you.
At bedtime, you are overwhelmed with sadness. You don’t know why you are sad. You offer explanations that make sense to you like “I am a burden”; but I don’t think you really feel that way. You also thought that maybe you were scared to sleep incase you died. I got the nurse to take your blood pressure and other vital signs. They were normal. That knowledge didn’t help you. The nurses give you some extra medication. Medications can have side effects, I am worried about the possible effects of this drug. I hope to talk to Dr. Feltmate Tuesday about this.
I think a lot of the sadness is the from the neurotransmitter soup that is bathing you brain. It will take a while to sort the chemicals out. You said that at 9pm you felt a tinge of sadness but it built up and by 10:30 your feelings were out of control.
When I left your side tonight, you were drifting off to sleep.