Armida, Part II. The Innkeeper Sang, Armida's Eyes Danced ....7/27/11

My dear friend Armida

          Last Thursday, I visited a dear friend, Armida.

         Her life is ending soon be-cause of a disease that's ravaging her body.   She took a strong tumble in late May. A MRI was performed, to see if she cracked her spine.

       It was damaged, yes.  They also discovered she was riddled with the life-consuming disease of cancer.  I've gone through this experience before.

      My father died of prostate cancer four years ago.  For the past year, I have been caring for a friend recovering from cancer surgery.

      My guitar and songbook I brought along.  Her husband, Gerard, escorted me to the bedroom.  Sitting up in a hospital bed, her beaming impish eyes greeted me.

      Many positive emotions were released when I hugged her.  Armida's son, Paul, his daughter Allison and Gerard filled the room.  Nobody spoke.

      I didn't know them.  Water was offered.  I propped my 1,000 + songs songbook on my open guitar case and serenaded Armida.

         Her eyes kept time to the music as I gazed at her while singing; her radiating smile, brightened this room adorned with a crucifix that hung on the white wall behind her bed.

         My left fingers danced upon the frets of the guitar while my right ones plucked arpeggios and other finger pickings I've known since I was 15.  My, was it wonderful, see-ing music comfort Armida and her loved ones.  The neck of my guitar poked the towels stacked up on a tray to my left.

         I managed. That was a small problem compared to Armida's.  At one point Armida asked, "would you perform at my funeral?"  Of course I would, I replied.

        My visit beckoned sensitive memories.

        You see, I did the same thing for my dying mom, less than three years ago, the day before her life ended in a private room in a Modesto hospital. On that night, I sang for 5 1/2 hours and three hours on the next, her final day. It was also was my mom's birthday.

        I held my mother in my arms when her life left her.  Moments like last Thursday are special. The value of cherishing each breath we have and each moment we share with our loved ones becomes vividly clear.

       The one and a half hours I sang Thursday seemed like thirty minutes, but my body knew better.  The next day I was exhausted.  I had given my all.

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1. I'm thankful for precious moments shared with dear friends.
2. I never cease marveling at the comforting power of music.
3. I was touched, Thursday. That day, while playing the guitar in Armida's room, an unseen Guest joined us. His soothing Presence was felt throughout the house, however, so I was told by those with me.
4. I'm glad  I helped several others breathe easier, last Thursday, including Armida.

"To laugh much; to win respect of intelligent persons     and the affections of children; to earn the approba-     tion of honest critics and endure the betrayal of           false friends. "To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to       give of one's self; to leave the world a little better,       whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a           redeemed social condition. "To have played and laughed with enthusiasm, and       sung with exultation; to know even one life has           breathed easier because you have lived--this is to         have succeeded."       Ralph Waldo Emerson

5. I was moved by the unspoken partnership shared with everyone in the room while I sang: Armida's eyes danced with the music, while daubing her joyful tears; her son's stress took comfort in the songs and evident happiness of his mom.  Allison carefully observed the stranger in her grandma's room, Gerard wearily smiled, reflecting his gratitude for his wife's buoyed spirit.
6. I was happy that joy filled her voice and spirit, because of our time together. Does life get any better than times like this?  I think not.
7. I am privileged being Armida's friend.
How About You? 
1.Have you recently told your loved ones how much they mean to you?  You never know.  All it takes is a car accident, to affect you or your loved ones. In an instant, circumstances can forever change.
2. You've heard my gratitudes, would it be possible to hear three of yours?  Just asking...

For the first post about Armida's home going journey, please click here.  For the third installment, please read here.

Image:"Sometimes Things Get Magical"  by Tim Blessed © all rights reserved, used by permission