As I write this morning, my Grandmother, who is the queen of the world in my heart, is fading from us. She is taking her last breaths on this earth, and every one seems more labored than the last.
Yesterday at church, on this first Sunday of Advent, I sang Angels We Have Heard On High with all my heart, knowing my sweet Grandmother could not sing it, or even be there to hear a favorite Christmas song. I comforted myself by remembering that soon she will be singing straight to Jesus. Face to face.
When my Grandmother was a little girl, her brother and sister took music lessons, but she was told at an early age that she could not sing. Since her mother thought she had no inclination for music, she signed her up for elocution lessons instead. It has been a running joke in my family since then that she never lacked for words.
However, being told she could not sing never stopped her from singing. Always loud and strong were her Holy, Holy, Holy’s and you could hear her proclaim Because He Lives off key from several pews away, much to the embarrassment of her children.
Her lucid moments as of late have been few and far between, but her daughters have been playing some of her favorite hymns for her and one morning last week they were playing some songs on a speaker near her when I pulled up.
Here comes Alison, my mother said to her.
Oh, Alison. She came to hear the music! she replied back.
Right she was. I do want to hear the music.
A joyful noise.
For now and for always.