The music of missing me
The music of missing me.
My mouth is dry and my heart is thumping in my chest. I know he feels the same way because I can feel his rapid heart beat from two feet away. His jaw looks clenched as he is chews on his lower lip and his eyes are glazed off into the distance. He wants me here for this, yet he has a protective barrier surrounding him demanding silence. I don’t feel much like talking either and in our silence we both remember. Two separate stories formed from the pain of missing one another.
It is his turn and I watch my son take a deep breath as he prepares to confront his nerves and fears. He looks taller and more sturdy in his shoes every time I see him and in his eyes I can see the sparkle of joy beginning to return after a long period of hibernation. My son grabbed his guitar with confidence and determination as he took the stage. I am filling my lungs with as much air as they can hold as I pull my shoulders back and try to follow the example my son has just set for me. I hold my head up and stand tall as I walk to my seat.
His cheeks have a rosy glow, and I am the only one who knows this is a symptom of his nerves. Yet he holds himself steady while he takes focused control of his environment on the stage. He appears remarkably calm compared to the way I am feeling with my tight chest bursting with emotions that desperately need to be released.
My shy son is playing the guitar on a stage with a group of critical eyes examining his every move and assessing his technique. His fingers are moving with quick precision and skill acquired from the endless hours of practicing in his room alone. His eyes begin to move into that magical land where masterpieces are made, allowing his soul and the music to mingle providing the space needed to receive a miracle.
I can no longer hold back the tears, I don’t have a tissue, and I don’t care. I can feel every minute of him playing and practicing in his room alone while he was missing me and wondering what happened to his family. He would bleed his pain into each strum of the strings and this is how he found a way to continue another day without me.
In every note and every chord a piece of my son missing me fills the room with harmony. The judges tap their feet and nod their heads to the beat as the music my son is making gently touches their souls. As he plays he is shedding his pain and is opening the door to receive love and joy in his heart once again.
The guitar that held my sons pain has given him the miracle of beautiful music.
It is the music of missing me.
