Singing for End of Life
Bringing peace, comfort and reflection.
In memory of Keith…
Perhaps the greatest honour for a singer, in my opinion, is to sing for someone approaching the end of their life. To sing them gently into their resting place is an incredibly sacred experience, bringing peace, comfort and reconciliation.
I had the honour of singing for Keith as he battled end stage cancer. Keith was a man of faith and loved music, particularly hymns, as they brought great comfort to him.
I prepared a set of songs of around a half hour duration, that included Keith’s favourites. I was careful to include songs of triumph, sacred and contemplative songs. Songs to bring back fond and joyful memories and melodies that invoke a boldness and confidence in knowing what awaits him. Acoustic tracks were used, with a pulse but not an imposing beat.
When I arrived, we set up the lounge room as a little performance space, we shared a meal together and then congregated in the lounge with a cup of tea and sweets. We made sure Keith was comfortable as moving about was difficult for him. I sat on a chair in the middle of the room and sang for him.
It is such a beautiful sight to witness someone exhibit great strength of spirit even when experiencing a decline in body. As we sang, Keith joined in when he could and shed a tear as he listened, with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his face. Momentarily transported to another time and place.
It is important to observe body language as you sing. Those entering end of life often have heightened senses and it is important that the music and vocalisations are not too loud or aggressive. It is far from a performance. The idea is to create a calm and peaceful space for reflection.
A few months later, I went back to sing for Keith. This visit saw a significant decline in his condition. It was not long now.
This time, I sat on a chair by his bedside, without the distraction of backing music and sang to him very quietly and gently. Keith knew that I was there but did not speak as it was an effort for him. I sang for Keith until he fell asleep. Keith entered eternity shortly thereafter.
Honestly, singing for those at the end of their life is not for everyone. It can be confronting. Having experienced loss in my own life and vicariously through others in over 20 years of policing, I am comfortable with death and dying. I am able to lean in when others may cower. Perhaps this unique perspective means that I have a purpose here.
Many people cannot face the dying, for to witness the decline is too heartbreaking to bear. The instinct is to protect ourselves and not engage or expose ourselves to the reflection of our mortality. Whilst this is entirely understandable, and natural, I often wonder what it takes away from the person who is experiencing death. Does it rob them of comfort?
I ask this question because I was impacted greatly by an encounter at the hospital when my mother was in palliative care. A friend of hers, whom she had not seen in years, walked past us as we sat in the courtyard. My mother was in good spirits that day albeit her physical appearance was distressing.
The friend saw my mother, and at first, didn’t recognise her. My mother engaged her in conversation and immediately her friend realised who it was and the intense shock on her face was so obvious that my mother asked her if she was ok. Mum wanted to talk to her friend, knowing that she may not see her again, but her friend, clearly overwhelmed by the decline and with tears in her eyes, hurried away.
I recall being incredibly angry by this encounter. Not because the friend was upset or clearly in shock and did not know how to appropriately respond. I was angry because at the time, I perceived the behaviour as selfish. I couldn’t understand why a friend would not put their own feelings aside and say a proper goodbye to my mother. At least give her a moment, as she didn’t have many left.
Now that I am older, with many more life experiences behind me, I realise that this behaviour is merely self preservation. I do still wonder though, what do we owe the dying? A moment of our discomfort for their sake?