Whose Song Is It, Anyway?
What do we owe someone who's grieving?
Deborah and her older brother were best buddies growing up. It was always a little weird, she thought, since other brother-sister relationships she knew were full of fighting and hairpulling, or outright ignoring the little sister/brother. But she and David were different. They stayed close through high school and as adulting took over, became solidly best friends throughout their marriages, kids, houses, deaths, and divorces.
When David was 37, he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of bladder cancer. Months of chemotherapy couldn’t stop its progression, and he died a month short of his 38th birthday.
Deborah was devastated.
She managed to plan his funeral and included the song “The Wind Beneath My Wings.” They sang it together as teenagers, karaoke-style, always loud and out of key, and always ending with hysterical laughter. Over time they joked that it was “their song” and they’d sing it randomly to each other on phone calls, or text each other a line.
After David’s death, the song became even more important to Deborah. She’d hear it and cry; or she’d hear it and laugh, remembering their breathless laughter as they butchered it together. We know that music evokes stronger and more vivid memories than spoken words or pictures. For Deborah it was a link to their unique siblinghood, and a reminder for her that David was still with her in spirit.
A couple of years later Deborah heard through friends that her ex-husband was getting married again. No big deal. But then she found out that he and his new wife had used “Wind Beneath My Wings” as their wedding song.
Deborah was livid. Heartbroken. Confused.
And found herself grieving anew.
Her ex knew how close she and her brother were, had been close friends with him himself, had been at the funeral and held her up when the song unhinged her, had seen it shatter her, and sustain her, for years afterward.
It’s just a song.
It’s not just a song.
Do we own the emotional rights to “our song”?
Do we owe it to the grieving person to archive that song?
Can a song be fought over in a custody battle, or given away like a crock-pot?
Grief is complicated. And what Deborah is feeling is actually called complicated grief. I see it often in my grief coaching.
Something happens - news of the exes nuptial song - to bring up the original grief. Then grief decides to get fancy and layers more losses on top of that, like a puff pastry but not as pretty.
First came David’s death - the loss of what they have in the present. Then: the loss of the unique and intimate friendship they shared. The loss of the memories that only they carried. The loss of any more karaoke with David. The loss of a future of aging (and laughing about it) together as siblings. Oh, and more layers of any unresolved feelings about Deborah’s ex and the losses that came from her divorce.
A grief coach can help you identify the layers. REmind you that everyone’s puff pastry is going to be different thicknesses and flavors. And most important, help you understand that everything you are feeling is valid and okay and not weird and definitely doesn’t make you a bad person for having those feelings.
I’m here to help you work through the layers.
And if we do our work in person, I’ll bring the pastries.