Ship Song
Music: Sea Of Heartbreak
Artist: Don Gibson
Shared by: Lauren for her Mother
“Sometimes I’d wait for her to ask me to put on the ‘Ship Song’ as she referred to it, other times I’d offer it up right away just to see her face light up.”
Driving sixty miles each way past corn fields and fracking sites on our way to visit my 97 year old grandmother - my childlike mother in the passenger seat next to me - and "our" music was all there was to make that weekly trek palatable.
Sometimes I'd wait for her to ask me to put on the "Ship Song" as she referred to it, other times I'd offer it up right away just to see her face light up. An inseparable duo crafted the way only a single mother with an only daughter can come to exist, we made that drive with excitement in January, worry in May, and grief in July. We listened to "Sea of Heartbreak" at least once, in each direction for over a year.
I wish that this song brought to mind the pain of losing my tenacious and generous grandmother and all the countless ways we cared for her in her final chapter, ensuring she died pain free and with dignity. Instead, it invokes the memory of my other-worldly mom, who passed just 6 months later. Her decades long battle with Lymphoma had caught up to her, and there was no where for us to run.
As I sat with her in the hospice room where the bleak January sun poured in, I'd often find myself unsure of what to say; she had slipped into the in-between, not quite ready to leave me but, presumably, acutely aware that she would have to. In those moments when holding her hand in silence or telling her how much I loved her didn't feel quite right, I'd play her favorite songs on my phone and sing along through the tears. I had no idea if she could hear them or not, but it felt natural - her, me and our songs.
15 or so seconds into "Sea of Heartbreak" she opened her eyes for the first time in 12 hours, searched for my face and squeezed my hand. I moved in closer just to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a mirage created from sleep deprivation. She smiled her sweet, tender smile and said "I've missed you so much. I love you." and before the song even came to a close, she had returned to wherever she briefly emerged from. She never regained consciousness and 8 hours later she had left me alone in this world to try my hand at living it without her for the first time.
This song is everything my mom was - simple, upbeat, but with a heavy pour of an unspoken sadness. I think I understand that unspoken sadness now more than ever. Life continues to change and the world continues to spin; laughter and joy can even be swept out of the corners every so often. But, at just 37, I now know that the rest of my life will have an undercurrent of absence and sadness. I've now cried enough tears to make my own sea of heartbreak, and I'm learning a little each day how to stay afloat.