Tuesday's Tune

One thing that I like about music and that makes it somehow magical for me is the fact that there are moments when you discover a song - usually an old song you've known for ages - and it suddenly starts speaking to you like never before. It's almost as if a revelation appears out of the blue.

I sure had a revelation last week. It's called Fix You. Coldplay. I hadn't thought much of this song this far, but for a week now it's a compulsory song for me. Every day. About 10 times a day.

Tell me about magic.

Now I'm warming up my piano playing skills. No, I should rather say - I've started playing the piano, I've never seriously done it before. I went downstairs to the church the other day and stole the organist's hymnal from there. Then I went through it to find the easiest pieces there are in it. You know, playing in my league... I picked two pieces (one of them being Nearer, Still Nearer), and now I'm practicing them faithfully. It's actually quite hilarious. The amount of torture my genius dad needs to endure is immense - I play really-really slowly, hitting wrong piano keys all the time. So it often happens that while I'm playing in the living room, he shouts from his room something like, 'It's F instead of G on your left hand!' or 'That chord doesn't sound right!' And I'm like, 'How on earth does he know?' Haha! Sometimes I do quite well (of course, I've played the piano for 5 days now), but as soon as he steps in the room, everything goes wrong. Too much pressure. That's the price I'm having to pay for sharing the home and last name with an extremely talented musician.

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On more serious note, life sucks. I've never ever in my life felt such loneliness as I feel now. The wound goes very deep. I don't even know where or how the healing process should begin.

Throwback Thursday

I'm a lot like my mum. People have always said that. And I take great pride in it.

I remember those late evenings when my dad would come home from church, maybe from a tough church board meeting or from Sabbath evening service, after preaching three sermons that day. And he would go straight to his room, read news, and just be. My mum would be in the kitchen and she would warm up some food or maybe fry an egg, make some tea, put the food on a plate, and take it to my dad who'd be sitting and reading news in their bedroom. And I never understood it. Often I was like, 'Oh, come on, mum, why do you have to do this? If he really was hungry, he would find his way to the kitchen himself, why do you need to serve him like that?' And she would shake her head and look at me and say, 'I hope you'll understand it one day, Mervi.' Well, I sure didn't understand it back then. I didn't even try.

Yesterday evening I made toast, put some cheese and fish on it, cut a piece of strawberry cake, put it all on a plate, made some hot chocolate, and took it all to my father who was sitting in his room and playing chess on his computer.

And one day my mister husband will come home after a rough day at work (maybe from a church board meeting too, who knows). And I'll put some food on a plate and take it to him, and one of my children would watch it, bewildered. And he/she would be like, 'Oh, mum, that's so 19th century, why on earth do you need to fix the dinner for dad, he's a grown-up and could do it all himself.' And I'd look at him/her and shake my head and be like, 'Oh, kids, what do you know about life? What do you know about love? I hope you'll get it one day.'

And then I'll probably add, 'I wish you had known your grandmother. She knew a thing or two about love. And she taught me, too. Maybe even more than she ever knew.'

Music is coming back to my life. Slowly. But surely.

Rosi Golan, Been A Long Day.

It's been a long week
And all the lines come down heavy on me
It's been a long week
I'm finally feeling like it's okay to break
Into a thousand pieces
No one can replace
Only I can find my way
It's been long day
And I just want to hide away

So it's two weeks now. And a week since the funeral. To be honest, I still don't have anything sensible to say. Time drags on extremely slowly, sometimes it seems to stop altogether. I seem to be in an empty space and empty time gap - the past has been taken from me, and the future has not yet been given. The whole life is made of little loosely-connected fractions, some of them are nice and cheerful, some extremely sad, most of them just dark and empty. Here are some of them:

I took all her winter coats up to the attic last week. But I don't know how systematically or quickly I should remove her things - dad's desk is still full of her hand-written notes with dates and phone numbers and things to remember (she was his faithful secretary for all these decades). The edge of my book shelf is still full of her painkillers. Should I chuck them out?

I made some bread last week. I was very happy to realise that I remember her recipe and that it almost tastes like hers.

I just came from town, I took her ring to the jeweller for it to be made smaller so that it could fit my finger. There are only very few of her things that I've taken - her ring, her golden cross, and her little mirror.

My dad has started playing the piano again.

I read. Finally, after a few failed attempts, I've got to Dallas Willard's The Divine Conspiracy. Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince is waiting. And then Eugene Peterson's Working The Angles.

I've booked my plane tickets to Norway and UK.

Walks on the seaside do good to me.

This terrible hospital smell still haunts me.

All my nights are full of dreams - I guess my poor subconsciousness is trying to make some sense out of this mess of life. Sometimes she's alive, sometimes she isn't, in either way I'm tired by morning.

I keep a little light on over night.

We visited my uncle and auntie this past Sabbath. He told us stories, she made pancakes.

Hazy memory of a Christmas.

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[This is my 100th blog post. Who could have thought I'd make it this far.]

From New Year's Eve.

I've been thinking about light and darkness a lot lately. Not just lately lately but for a year or so. And the more I think about it the more I realise that the whole life is a struggle between light and darkness. We Adventists like the metaphor of a 'great controversy between good and evil', I'm starting to like the metaphor of a 'great clash between light and darkness' more. In essence they are the same thing. But I like the idea of keeping your little light shining more than the idea of fighting evil forces. Sometimes we are truly powerless in the face of force majeure and evil, I've lived long enough and experienced enough to say that. But there is always a way to keep your light alive, or even let others keep it alive for you, should you break down for a moment.

I just read from our church's website that there were two congregations in Estonia who took my Shoebox Presents' idea and made Christmas presents for kids in need over the holiday season. I was surprised and humbled and touched. There were people who took the baton from me, so to speak, and carried it forward. There were people who kept shining a light when I was lost in darkness. One day there will be light in my life again and we'll make another Shoebox Presents' project happen (and I'm hoping it to happen rather sooner than later), but until I'm down, others will carry on. My heart is in peace when I think of it.

So, friends, let your light shine.

Let it shine also for me.