When my first child, my daughter Zoe, was born on my birthday, September 24th, it seemed to me to be an amazing metaphor for becoming a mother. While I didn't know which end of a diaper was up, my husband Marc and I felt an immense connection and desire to protect and nurture our baby. I was aware that the reason it felt so easy to access that unconditional love, that must have been the kind of love I myself had received from my parents. Zoe was the first grandchild of my generation, and was born in the year that my father was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. His health declined rapidly. When I perform this song, sometimes it seems the whole audience cries along with me. To my surprise, I have learned that they are grateful for the chance to revisit their own losses.
Far from making sorrow worse, every time you shed tears you actually accept your grief a little more. Our wounds need the dignity of our attention, in order to heal.
Music has tiny fingers, and can reach places in the heart that words alone cannot. So when you hear my song, or any song, and it makes you want to cry - I hope you open your heart to the healing that tears can bring.
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