Diverse Voices around Substack and My Comments Roundup #4
Essays on connecting with parents through dance, music and language — a selection of highly evocative newsletters worthy of your attention
Dear Ponders,
This week, I bring you a collection of tear-jerking essays that may make you go weak at your knees… or make you get up and dance, depending on how they strike a chord in your heart. (Pun intended!) I hope you’ll take some time to click into each of these beautifully crafted essays and check out the authors’ works. They are amazing daughters in their unique ways, and I hold so much respect for them.
About my “Diverse Voices” series: In these occasional round-ups, I curate and highlight noteworthy newsletters on Substack. These high-quality essays prompted me to engage in meaningful conversations with the authors and their respective communities. I hope that these discourses will spark your imagination and expand your horizon as much as they have for me. Check out the previous round-ups here.
Healing Estrangement: ‘Will You Dance with Me, Dad?’
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My response:
Thank you for sharing your beautiful gift of love and dance. This is such a heartfelt essay. It made me cry. I resonate so much with your reflections on the emotional limitation your parents had when raising you, the estrangement, etc. I'm touched and glad to see how you have healed your relationship with your dad.
I've never danced with my dad. I love him dearly, but when he was alive, I had a period of estrangement with him. I reconnected with him when he got cancer, and in tending to him by his sickbed, I tried to make up for the time lost (and since he couldn’t dance by then, I performed a little ballet number for him in the hospital). I did have a fair share of guilt for being there for him a little too late. The chance of sharing this kind of heartfelt connection that you described here had passed and would never come as he passed away 15 years ago. However, his spirit continues to live in me.
The Musical Bond That Transcends Dementia
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My response:
Hi Amy, I'm revisiting this beautiful post and listening to Fifi's songlist (added to my own Spotify!). I'm tremendously touched by your melancholy expressed in this piece, where you traced the history of your mom's love affair with music and with your dad, and described how that has shaped your own musical taste and become the wonderful glue that connects your family.
Here, you described the tragedy of not being able to share the joy of music as your mother's mind drifts away to a place that feels as if it was a distant country: "When I gently nudged her awake again, she would look at the performers and smile before disappearing again to that country she now inhabits — the one where I have no passport to gain entry." That makes me want to cry with you.
And then you mentioned the guilt of feeling joyous yet noticing that your mother could no longer receive the gift of music that would allow her to take part in the same kind of joy: "At the very moment that she and I both need to be uplifted, it is difficult to reclaim that joy. I even feel guilty at times when music makes me feel happy and carefree when it can no longer do that for her." I feel for you whenever such heartbreak moments occur.
On the other hand, I'm really inspired by your determination to live in joy despite all the hardship and difficulties you have gone through during the last year — the divorce and caring for your mother with dimentia. Taking yourself to a classical music concert sounded like such a wonderful gift to yourself — a balm to your tired soul at that time. Perhaps I should give myself a similar treat soon.
Music Memory Connects Caregivers and Loved Ones
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My response:
Hi Victoria, this is such an amazing collection of essays that highlight the importance of music and its profound meaning to each of the writers who responded to your invitation to share their music memories. I love this: "every year, we curate our own music time-stamped memories." I also love reading how your late father's favorite music genre -- classical music -- "appeased his troubled mind and broke the frustrations of vascular dementia." Not only that, listening to it together also brought you, the caregiver, a sense of relief and I believe, a deep, non-verbal connection with your dad. Thank you for your tribute to music and its power to connect people in some of the most challenging situations where words aren't even possible.
An Untranslatable Chinese Phrase that Expresses Appreciation
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My response:
Yina, this entry on 辛苦你了 really touched me. I teared up while reading the stories of how you observed and "saw into" the hard labor of your father and husband when they offered labor for the ones they love. I love your interpretations for this truly untranslatable phrase: "Together, 辛苦 is often translated to mean laborious; hard; miserable; exhausting; arduous," and "I see you." Like you, I also find the English translation lacking in intensity. I'd like to add that 辛苦 is my word of choice when I try to describe my mental and emotional agony. The best translation I can come up with is "I'm suffering immensely." Or perhaps: gut-wrenching and unbearable. But I prefer 辛苦 for its economy of words. Can't beat that! By the way, I am wondering if 辛 can mean spicy hot too? I'm thinking of the phrase 辛辣. Any idea?
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Awwww pass the tissues, please. Thank you, Louisa. Your empathy and beautiful soul shine through your words. I appreciate your perspective, your support and the way you lift others. HUG!
Louisa,
You are so giving in your comments and in doing this post. I know writers are thrilled to receive thoughtful comments such as these and to be featured in your post.
I read the one about connecting with a parent through music. My father is about to turn 87. He would benefit from having the music of his younger days on in his apartment. Sinatra, Tony Bennet, Sam Cooke. I'm going to suggest that to him. (Anything to divert his attention from Fox news. Oy!)