Some people experience music as merely a vibrating sound or noise, but my relationship with music is complex and emotional.
My grandmother put music in my heart. Through the years she taught me countless songs. Songs in Arabic from her childhood, songs in English from her first days living in America, and songs she thought should be part of a young singer’s education.
Through her I discovered music could be an escape from troubles and provide a belief that everything would always be all right.
But when she passed away three years ago, I felt my connection to music slipping away as grief filled my world. I’d lost my grandmother, I did not want to lose music, too.
Then I was persuaded to sing at her funeral.
At the church I was the first one to rush to the casket, hoping to see my Nene’s smiling face and hear her say “mallesh,” Arabic for “it’s okay.” Instead, I saw her silent and still, as if she’d fallen asleep forever. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered all the wonderful times we shared.
I felt a wave of loneliness crash over me. My dad hugged me and led me to a seat. As the church filled and the service began I heard speeches, but they sounded like distant echoes.
I was numb, burning inside and out, unable to express my grief.
Then I heard my name. It was time for me to sing, to honor my Nene with my voice. I wanted to sing perfectly to make her proud.
And so I began. “Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord, That David played, and it pleased the Lord…” I concentrated on my mom’s hand squeezing mine. I sang until I couldn’t hear myself anymore, only the sound of sobbing.
When I finished, there was a silence so deep that it felt like the world had stopped spinning. And for a moment, I felt like I was gone too, just like my grandma.
Then I hugged my mom, because we both needed each other more than ever. We hugged for a long time, knowing that things would never be the same again.
Life went on. School. Sports. Friends. But I still felt sadness.
It was then when I discovered Gospel music. On the drive home after a difficult basketball game my dad played Kirk Franklin’s “Silver and Gold” as a way to help me get over the tough loss.
The repetition of “I’d rather have Jesus than silver and gold” made me realize that lesson applies to everything and in my grief for my grandmother I couldn’t distract myself with food, basketball, reading, or even friends.
When I got home, I went on Apple music and I searched “gospel songs to listen to when you feel alone. “Music” and “religion” can seem so impersonal and far away. But these songs were different.
They fed my soul and comforted me and showed me a way out of my sadness. Music and my faith will always hold a special place in my heart. Just like my Nene.
So when someone asks me how I find peace in my life I never hesitate to say music.
Music is my Peace.
