Down Came a Blackbird

Now, I know I'm no spring chicken.  As a matter of fact, I'm like, double that.  But it's still very weird to feel "right" about picking out songs for a funeral.  Not that it's right, necessarily, but it just doesn't feel wrong.  I guess with experience comes acquiesce.

But that doesn't make my late night music discoveries any less creepy to my family when I share them.  And, as I find more and more, I realize, it's not a bad thing.

Let me preface:

I've recently been taking note of songs that would be perfect to play when my dad passes.  Not songs of mourning, but rather, songs I remember him loving.  George Straight.  Elvis.  Lila McCann.  Michael Jackson, even.  (He may have been fluffing me a bit with that one, but it stuck).  I can remember exact days, smells in fact, when I hear certain songs, and that is exactly how I want to feel when it's his time.  I want to know.  I want to be prepared.  Much different than with the people I've lost in the past.

I was unfortunate, in that, I was born so far past the rest of my siblings.  I missed a lot of the life they remember.  But also, I was fortunate at the same tune.  I had my own relationship with my parents.  One that none of the rest of my five siblings understood.  My memories of my parents is much different than my siblings memories, and I think that is a good thing.

It acted much like the moons aligning.  Everything kind of worked out.  It worked out that I was the last of the bunch, because I'm more of an introvert than the opposite.  I wasn't forced, for very long, to do many things that I didn't want to do.  Also, I was fortunate that I had two very naturally smart parents, who bred mostly smart children.  There's a sense of trust I can only assume you gain, after you've dealt with so many smart children.  Not hard to confuse with smart-ass children; but I digress.  I had a freedom which came with the proof of my hard work and determination.  Either that, or my parents were just tired by the time it was my turn.

These were things that set me aside from the herd.  I was able to listen without bias.  I stood up for what I believed in because there was never anyone around to knock me down.  At least, no one whose opinion mattered enough, as, being an introvert, outsiders don't have much pull.  I had family who loved me unconditionally, mostly, because we all knew we were on the same level.  In the times of utmost dysfunction, we showed each other care and respect.  We may not have liked it, but it was natural and deserved.

All of this helped me to be a very strong and independent person.  Then there was my mom.  All my siblings had the mom I barely remember.  The one who drove a car; asked about their day; threatened to end our lives if our rooms weren't clean by the time dad got home.  Okay, not literally, but we could all understand the inference.  I didn't get much of that.  And, as unfortunate the reason, there were positives for me.

I remember hating myself for talking back to my sick mother fighting cancer.  I was at the age that every girl yells those horrible things at their mother, but, through her battles, I didn't want to anymore.  Ever.  I wanted to be a good girl.  Positive.

I remember my mom letting me cry if my feelings were hurt, without asking any questions, because she didn't have that facility, and it was perfect.  It was exactly what I needed.  Positive.

Really, besides not getting to have her around as long as I wanted, the only other real negative is that I had no idea what music to play at her funeral.  I remember her listening to music, but it was just the radio.  Not a specific record or album.  I remember her singing, but unfortunately, it was because she sang so loud and out of tune.  Of course, I loved that about her, and I'm positive, that confidence has fed my karaoke addiction.

So now, I have this subliminal need to be prepared for my dad where I couldn't be for my mom.  And again, I feel like my age difference compared to my brothers and sisters, has led to an advantage.  I feel like I got the most consecutive happy years of my dad's life.  I think he shared more positive things with me.  Therefore, I've begun my list of songs.  I hope to not have to play them until my children are grey, but just in case, I've taken note.  And, it won't be creepy.  It will be happy.  We'll all cheers a Coors Light and snap our fingers way off beat.