To the woman who taught me to sing to God, I am saddened by your loss.
What an extraordinary life to have lived, teaching music and faith to children.
The older I get, the more I forget. Time and memories that were once so clear are suddenly fuzzy or have disappeared altogether. What remains was what was sung: 50 states in alphabetical order, the soundtrack to Annie and days and days of singing in the church choir with my fancy shoes and homemade ruffled dresses.
I remember looking down at my feet and then up to the impossibly high ceilings of God’s house. You played the piano and I sang my heart out.
Sang my heart out!
I never understood how people didn’t know God. How people thought enlightenment was something distant and lucky. Every Wednesday afternoon and Sunday morning of my childhood every cell in my body was full of joy and faith. Love and certainty.
And so, dear Janice, your music remains, an echo and a presence, at the core of my heart.
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