Processing Grief at The Piano Bench

                                              I know she's with me, in a weird way that was unique to our                                                     relationship, when I sit at the piano bench. 

My piano lessons are every other Tuesday afternoon. For this lesson, I've been working on a simple rendition of _When the Saints Go Marching In_. It is a fun little song that I can play with my {dominant} right hand. 

Here is an article on the song and its rich origins in New Orleans. 

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/the-rich-history-of-when-the-saints-go-marching-in/

For me, learning this song has helped me to process the grief I still feel over missing a dear friend, who happened to be a proud native of New Orleans. It has been well over a year since Doc died, and often I still feel the loss heavily. 

I find that I feel closest to her when I sit at the piano. I do not need to play a recognizable song to feel Doc with me --even practicing the finger exercises that my teacher gave me brings me closer to the essence of who Doc was to me. 

I never took piano lessons from Doc-- even though she'd wanted to teach me. Several extra-talented musicians came from Doc's private and UWF studio, and I feared that I would disappoint her with my clumsiness. In hindsight, I know now that I'd never disappoint her if I'd have worked as hard at the piano as I do now. 

Part of the reason why processing the death of my friend has been so hard is that Doc was the first significant person whom I'd lost. Both sets of grandparents died, but none of those losses have been as hard on me as losing Doc. 

My maternal grandparents really did not show up much in my life, so I did not mourn them. dad's parents were a part of my formative years, but my grandfather died of cancer back in 2001 and Grandma died at the age of 91.  Although Grandma Mac and I enjoyed a good relationship when I grew into my adult self, she was not the constant presence in my life as Doc was for so many years. 

For 22 years, every day began with an email " Dear Doc".  Sometimes we'd continue a long conversation, other times one of us would start a new conversation. It would not be too unusual for us to have multiple conversation threads-- depending on what occurred in our lives at any given time.  Like me, Doc was a verbal communicator and wrote well. 

When I sit at the piano and play the morning exercises from the pink book, it is sort of like emailing Doc. I've found, that even in this beginning stage of piano study, that I communicate in a soul-way and know that the music somehow transcends time and even space. Through the piano, I share with Doc what is happening in my world-- just like it was before the illness took over her body. 

Grief is weird at this stage. I often find myself missing Doc acutely, but the piano is another vehicle for me to bring out emotions-- including grief. 

I miss you , Doc. I always will miss you. But music-- especially piano music-- will be another thread of communication until we meet again. 

Peace, love and music....

Sarah Beth McCarren.