In my line of volunteer work with the church, I’ve play music for a lot of funerals. And because I’ve been at the church as long as I have, I’ve come to know many of the church members and they have become an extended family.

I’ve never been a highly religious person. I’m obsessed with subjects that would be looked down upon in any church – magic, supernatural, divination, alternative healing methods. I was raised Catholic but never paid much attention to it.

The church for me, is about family, food, and learning about my heritage. It’s about making new friends. And it’s pretty much my social activity for the week other than seeing my dad. It’s something that is familiar and has been my home of nearly fifteen years.

Plus, I get to play music once a week. So, that’s a bonus.

A good friend of mine at the church lost her daughter last year and a grandson. We have bonded for years over Sunday morning coffee and chat about all things in life. There are six of us – regulars who are there almost every Sunday no matter what. Even mid winter snowstorms wouldn’t keep these folks away.

But as my friends reach the ages of 80 and even 92, like my beautiful red headed friend, I’m reminded of how precious life is and how short life can be.

After she lost her daughter she said one day on Facebook, and this sentence has really stuck with me since.

“Grief, is love. It really just has no place to go.”

Everyone says that grief eventually fades over time. But I find the older I get, that’s a lie. The more time that goes on, I seem to miss my mother more than ever. There are definitely days that are harder than others. There are days when it feels like she is right next to me watching me while I work on some project or in the kitchen – which was her favorite place to be.

Sometimes, I hear her voice in my head and go to pick up the phone and call her. Then I remember she’s gone and so I call my dad instead.

It’s been five years almost – and I don’t think gets easier. I think it gets harder as time goes on.

Younger people must have a harder time with loss. Especially children. Over time, you forget what people look or sound like. Thank goodness there are pictures and now videos to remind us of our loved ones. But what about the people we lost before technology came along?

We had a video camera in the 90s which my mum used a lot. But she used it to take videos of family. The grandkids. My sister. She rarely appeared on camera.

And that got me thinking about me. That’s me. I’m usually the one behind the camera taking pictures and I’m fine with that. But then I realized one day – hey. I don’t have kids. I don’t have a family of my very own. I don’t have something to leave behind.

I don’t have an imprint to leave on this world like my mother did with her 5 children and 9 grandchildren, and 1 great grandchild. That’s a pretty impressive resume, don’t you think? For one person? Creating a legacy that big?

And so, that’s where the inspiration behind “In Her Eyes” came from. My latest album release. It’s a 7 track album with original piano music.

On days where it seems I’m drowning in sorrow or grief, I turn to music for comfort. I sit in quiet contemplation until I hear a song that is so upbeat it gets my toes tapping and I can’t help but smile.

But for moments like this in the morning. When the world is mostly quiet and I’m sitting down with my coffee, wondering what to write about. It’s those moments that I think of my mother. It’s those moments I turn to music to quiet the ever busy mind.

It’s those moments that I get lost in the sounds of violins, cellos, classical guitar, piano and elegant choir voices that sound like angels. It’s these moments that I realize that grief will eventually pass and lead to something — more.

Music is magical. Music has healing powers. Music speaks to the soul. Music – like this. Sacred music shakes you to the core and makes you think about everything you’ve ever done in your life.

This music doesn’t just speak to your soul. It comes from the inner soul. It comes from the heart. It’s the music of angels.

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