This is part 3 of a 3-part essay.
To read Part 1 click here, Part 2 click here.
♪ ♪ ♪ Recapitulation ♪ ♪ ♪
Mom has lived through a time in China that was riddled with socio-economic and political power changes. In the midst of personal tragedies, as well as triumphs, against the larger setting, her life has been anchored in only one constant - her music. She has been able to accept whatever curveballs life throws at her and manages to strike back with the one power she has amassed: her unwavering love, for music and for her family.
She was throttled into teaching for a living when a performing career was on the horizon, but teaching became a lifelong profession of hers. Despite her dream of studying abroad being shattered when her dad was denounced as an "anti-revolutionist," she did not give up music. Instead, she became an artistic coach for the Conservatory and was ready to accompany students to international competitions when China reemerged onto the world's music stage. Although her hope of being a concert pianist might have vanished while she was in college, she was among the first to give a solo concert when the Cultural Revolution ended and has performed on stage with many world-renowned musicians.
On the floor of my attic, Mom’s six-decade-long teaching and performing career is encapsulated in the contents of several large manilla envelopes. She kept all the concert program notes, those of her own and her students. They have survived the cross-continent moves, and are content to be kept in these unassuming pale-yellow paper containers. Accompanying the notes, are albums of photos. Photos taken of her on stage, photos taken of her and her fellow musicians on tours; photos of her students on stage, and photos of her students at their weddings and with their children.
At age 89, the piano is still what gets Mom out of bed every morning, and on a good day, gives her several hours of pure joy. Doing what she loves has sustained her through life’s many highs and lows. When life gave her reasons to be disappointed, angry, or sad, she found love and consolation in music. When words failed to express her emotions, she turned to the world of music where she judges no one and is judged by none.
I am grateful that Mom found the greatest love of her life, her music. I secretly hope that her love of music will also make up for any inadequacies of me as a daughter, someone who too often is impatiently and absent-mindedly absorbed in her own life. And I hope her love of music and her love of me has filled in the physical distance between us ever since I left our home in Shanghai more than 3 decades ago.
Dr. BJ Miller, a guest on the All There Is Podcast, eloquently expressed how a full life includes sorrow and things you can’t change; and how it is a lot to learn to sit with things you can’t change in this life. It made me ponder the anticipation of grief, and its healing power.
Life is all about love and loss, and grief is inevitable when you lose what you love. Does unspoken love bring more pain? Will anticipating loss help to ease the grief when I inevitably meet it face to face? I can’t help but wonder, and hope for a comforting answer.
I am sitting on the attic floor, the artifacts of Mom’s life scattered around me. A golden hue from the last rays of the setting sun fills the room. Gratitude fills my heart. I am grateful for the NYT article that helped to turn a mindless search for a piece of a document into a meaningful reminiscent of life. I am grateful that I can still share the gift of life with Mom with the tender love and patience she once shared with me. Maybe we will never talk about love, yet there is still much we can do to experience and celebrate the love we have for each other, in our special way.
I imagine her one day reading this essay, as if hearing me telling her what reflecting on her life has brought me. Witnessing her life has taught me that life is a mixed bag; life is a journey; and if we each find and hold on to what we cherish, we can live a life with love, even when we never utter the words.
To read the previous parts, check out Part One and Part Two
Extra:
Here is a live recording from one of my chamber music concerts - The second movement of Mozart’s D major Sonata for Two Pianos, K.448, performed by Mom and I.
"I am sitting on the attic floor, the artifacts of Mom’s life scattered around me. A golden hue from the last rays of the setting sun fills the room. Gratitude fills my heart. " I find this very moving. I have had a similar experience but struggled to find the words. Thank you! Another really moving post.
Your story of your mom and your reflections are so beautiful and touching! I’m a believer of music can cheer one up and calm one down when we go through different stages of life. Kudos to your mom who is so resilient and independent, she’s a role model to many! 🌹🌹❤️