Unexpected Sadness
Feelings of sadness hit me unexpectedly today. Since my husband was with me, I worked hard on the tears that rose to the surface from his knowledge. I don’t often cry about Lynn having MS. Usually, I guard my emotions, rarely breaking down even during a crisis. However, I have one trigger that gets me every time – certain songs I used to hear him sing that I particularly enjoyed.
Beautiful Voice
Lynn was blessed with the most beautiful tenor voice you would ever want to hear. His singing and playing guitar melted my resolve not to remarry. I couldn’t resist that voice and agreed to take a chance on a second marriage.
Reluctant to Remarry
I had been burned badly in my first marriage and tried to delay remarrying as long as possible. Lynn was reluctant, too, but he was very romantic in his persuasive ways. I was tough, though; I kept close guard of my heart. I kept up my emotional barrier until he wrote a song he sang to me as part of his marriage proposal. I love his voice, and hearing him sing as he plays his guitar melts my heart.
Church Participation
After we married, participation in church activities bonded us as a couple. Together, we joined the adult choir, handbells, dinner theater, and the same Sunday school. Lynn’s participation with the praise band and mine with the drama team, in addition to the other church groups we attended, kept us busy as a couple. We were often at church 6 out of 7 days a week until his body would no longer allow him to keep up.
Last Solo
The last solo Lynn sang at church was “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me. It was the last time he accompanied himself during a performance (he played the drums). Everyone knew he struggled with Multiple Sclerosis, and this was his last performance with the praise band. As he finished his solo, he received a standing ovation. Several members openly cried. Many still talk about how poignant his last performance was, from how well he performed and the appropriateness of the song’s message.
Feel the Loss
To me, Lynn’s voice represents so much about him. It illustrates his vibrant personality and strength. He used to be the lead singer in several bands in his twenties. Today, as I gave him his morning care, we listened to several ‘70s songs he used to sing with the band. Suddenly, it hit me in the gut. I could hear him singing those songs, his strong and energetic voice. He still sings regularly to exercise his diaphragm, but he doesn’t have the strength to bellow a strong vocal. The loss of that ability just shot through me, and I wanted to sit down and have a good cry.
Teared Up
Lynn’s back was to me, so he could not see me tearing up. I kept blinking until my eyes cleared. He never realized I had become upset. It took me a while before the feelings left. I chattered about nonsense for a while, trying to keep the conversation light to cover up my emotions. The melancholy still hangs over me to some extent even now.
It Hurts
I’ve accepted that he can no longer do the things lost to nerve damage. I know Lynn can still sing, though not as strong as he once could. However, I still grieve the loss of what once was and the memories of how his voice made me feel. It’s a symbol of all the losses we’ve faced…and it hurts.
This article originally appeared on Multiplesclerosis.Net by Health-Union, LLC, and has been reposted with permission.
