Musical fingerings….. March 30, 2014

I got the message at work: Call your mom or your aunt. My mind began to race with possibilities. I hadn’t heard of anyone being ill…..was there an accident? Moving closer to “home” had not helped with communication. I think Facebook leaves us thinking, oh, they saw my post……or I told them that…….Add in my shame with my current situation, I hadn’t been calling. So this came as a surprise. I quickly asked for relief so I could go make the call. My grandfather was sick. He had been declining, but now his kidneys were shutting down and the doctor had admitted him to the hospital. “I’m coming.” was my quick reply.
I quickly called my supervisor and explained the situation. I had not seen my Grandfather in almost a year. For this I was angry. I had seen family events I felt I had not been invited to over the summer with “family” pictures. Now he was sick. No worries, they would get my shifts covered so I could go see him. I got home late that night and quickly began throwing things into a bag. I would leave first thing in the morning for the hour and a half drive home.
I got up early to avoid the tourist traffic that bogs down our roads out of town. Travelling alone, I made good time. I was stressed. I drove white-knuckled all the way there. Once in town, I stopped at my favorite local drive thru to grab some breakfast. I got to my mother’s house and immediately went in to scarf my breakfast down. On the way home I had spoken briefly with my mom to get an update on my grandfather and more background into his health. He’d been tired and lacking appetite for months. His strength was waning. He had lost forty pounds. The doctors had done some blood work and discovered that his kidneys were not functioning and he needed to get to the hospital. Dialysis in people his age had a high mortality. The plan was to start some meds, and do exploratory surgery to see if they could get his kidneys functioning better. He would go into surgery at 10am. I got to the house about 9:30am. As I quickly ate, I overheard my mother (who was not aware I was there yet) answer her phone. I quickly determined she was talking to my dad and she was as stressed as I was. She got off the phone and walked into the kitchen, where I surprised her. “Oh! Your here! Well, hurry if you want to ride with me to the hospital. I’ve got to drop Spencer off at the Christmas tree lot where he’s working with his JROTC.” “Okay!” I didn’t want to drive, as I have my father’s sense of direction and would have gotten lost in my own hometown trying to navigate the weird path to get to this hospital.
We hopped in the car and rushed to pick up Spencer up in order to drop him off. I looked over to see my mother driving the same way I had: white-knuckled. We were worried. Neither of us said anything. As always, mom had the radio going. In our family, music is genetic. And it stems from my grandfather….
My grandfather is a musician. He plays trumpet, piano and organ. His genre is Big Band. Name a “big name” Big Band musician and he has played with him: Count Basie, Benny Goodman, Charlie Spivak…….these were his friends and colleagues. All my life, I’d seen him playing: at church, in parades, on TV, even in a movie. He and my uncle played in the bar scene of Coal Miner’s Daughter, where Sissy Spacek as Loretta Lynn sings for the first time. My grandfather had his own band. Many of the men were like family and many WERE family. My father played with him for many years. Our holiday plans revolved around when and where the band would be playing. My grandfather is an amazing musician. He owned a piano store for decades. would sometimes go there after school and practice my lessons. One time I was struggling with a pop song arrangement. “What are you playing?” my grandfather demanded. He then sat down and played it perfectly, having only heard it from my struggling fingers. Often times, he did not need music. He could play and improvise flawlessly. While rehearsing for my wedding with my uncle, the two of them communicated with hand gestures to change keys mid song.
Everyone in my family plays something: siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and in-laws…..we’ve even played as an orchestra at several churches. My mother is a retired music teacher with years teaching marching band, concert band and then moving to elementary music where she put on performances with every grade. She was also a church pianist/organist longer then I have been alive. Her instrument of choice outside of piano was clarinet, like my grandmother had played. My mother had also been a piano teacher for years and years. At my insistence, she began teaching me when I was four and transferred me to my beloved piano teacher Mrs. Wilcox at the age of 6, knowing I when learn better from someone else! (I would listen better, plus as I now know first hand, your patience wears thin with your own kids after teaching others all day!) I took to piano like a duck to water. While attending my little brother’s pre-school Christmas performance, my dad looked down in awe as I “fingered” the songs they were singing. I was 7. This is something I would continue to do as I listened to music, especially anything I had played before. It was soothing. It was second nature. Most times, I don’t even realize I’m doing it.
As mom rushed us to the hospital after dropping off Spencer, I saw her doing the same thing: fingering along to the song on the radio. I doubt she even realized she was doing it. It was an outlet as it is for me, in the absence of a piano.
We got to the hospital and found my aunt in the hallway. A huge, long bear hug ensued as she quickly and quietly sobbed. As she does, she got it together and led us to the waiting room where my grandmother and aunt Emily were waiting. Friends wandered in and out as we waited. As often happens when I get together with my aunts, we got silly and laughed…..a LOT! It helped. My grandmother was aggravated by the fact she could not see well until she realized she was wearing my grandfather’s glasses. My aunts, mom and I laughed until we cried while she laughingly scolded us while searching for her glasses.
We waited for word that granddaddy was out of surgery. My aunt was the liaison between the staff and the family. As a nurse she could easily decipher the medical lingo for us. She warned the nurses that he would wake up cold and cranky. They quickly confirmed she was right! At first we were told he would be in the recovery room for two hours while they watched him. An hour later, they said they were sending him back to his room. I quickly concluded that they were DONE with the cranky old man and if he could cause that much ruckus, he could do so in his room!
We quickly ran to his room to wait for him. His room was tiny, and there were several of us, so we waited in the hall. After an eternity, they finally rolled him down the hall. My mom, uncle, aunts, and former band members all waited. As they backed him into his room, Granddaddy looked up and the first words out of his mouth were: “Well! There’s Melissa!” To say that made my day, is a vast understatement. Overwhelming love melted away lingering anger. I rushed to his side as the nurse worked to get him settled. Granddaddy’s personality was back in full force. He was lovingly cranky, cold, and HUNGRY for the first time in months. We worked on getting him a meal ordered as the nurse continued his care. “I need to check your sugars” the nurse told him. “WHAT? You have to STICK ME?” “Yes sir, just a little.” “You better be careful! These are WORLD FAMOUS hands! I’m a musician!” and to prove it he wiggled his fingers and gave her a smartass leer. As she went about getting everything done, my grandfather got quiet. I looked over. There he was…..fingering. There was no music playing, but when you’ve played for years, the music echoes in your head and heart.
The relief among us as palpable. He was SO much better. He cleaned his plate when they brought him his supper. He was cantankerous and difficult, which is to say he was heading back toward normal. We didn’t have answers as to WHY his kidneys shut down, but they were working much better now. We had our world-famous musician back with us for at least a little longer.
I’m forever grateful I made that trip. Granddaddy gave us several more months. But now he is nearing the end. Hospice has been called. The multitude of situations I have no control over are staggering and stressful. I can’t get home and I want to. My stress comes out as anger and tears. I yearn for a piano to take out some pent up emotions….but until I can get to one, I will finger the music in my heart…..just like my mother……just like my granddaddy.