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As
things at school have quieted down with the departure of students and the
completion of student history panels, I have had more time to do some cleaning
of my room and planning for next year. Accompanying this work has been a
"shuffle" of all the music in my iTunes library. Since I can only fit
about 10% of this music on my phone, I have been re-introduced to music that
brings me back to different times in my life. Today, the Irish musician Phil
Coulter consistently popped up, despite the songs being set on shuffle. While
my love for Irish music is well known and has become one of the defining
features of both my musical taste and overall person, it might seem a bit
strange to have instrumental music categorized as "New Age" in my
library. Like many things in my life, the answer traces back to my dad.
My
dad had a penchant for this genre of music as was evident in his overabundance
of Yanni and John Tesh CDs, but his favorite was Phil Coulter. The cassette
tapes of the 80s and CD's of the '90s were permanent fixtures in my life as
well as the lives of my mother and sisters. The music was the soundtrack to
every car ride (long or short) and holiday of my youth and young
adulthood. I know these songs inside and out. Each beat, key and note is
ingrained in me and brings me back to different times in my life. When I hear
them I can see a burning fire in our living room on Christmas Eve; I can hear the clink of a
glass from the mixing of a scotch and soda and the sounds of grandchildren that
filled our home in the later years. When I hear these songs I can think of my
dad and my family as it once was. These emotions are overwhelming at times and
while the prevailing one is sadness, I remind myself that if it makes me sad
it is only because what is past was so happy.
The
bittersweet is that all of this music is on my computer because I put them on
an iPod I purchased for him back when he got sick. In an attempt to normalize a
time that was a bit mad (to say the least) I wanted to give my dad something to
listen to during his treatment, and what better than the soundtrack to many of
our times together as a family. Now, they will forever live both in my mind as
well as on my computer. The memories of lost loved ones have funny ways of
sneaking up on you. They come with a coordinated randomness that make you
question just how random they are. I have come to appreciate these memories and
the brief tear but longer smile that accompany them.
