Initially, my plan for this piece was to celebrate the joy of the ukulele—a small, affordable instrument that has become a cherished part of my life. Anyone can pick up a ukulele and strum a few chords, and having one readily available at home has brought immense joy to my family. My daughter often brings it along during car rides, accompanying our favorite tunes, while my partner occasionally plucks it to create playful melodies about our everyday chaos. At gatherings, someone will inevitably strum that beloved version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and I can’t help but feel a rush of happiness. The message I wanted to convey was simple: you should definitely get yourself a ukulele. And I still believe that to be true because you absolutely should—consider adding a ukulele to your home!
But then my oldest and dearest friend, my confidante for over four decades, passed away. This loss prompted me to reflect on something deeper. In the absence of traditional faith, music has become my sanctuary.
After her passing, following the eulogy I delivered and my return home from New York, friends gathered around us. I affectionately refer to them as “The Crew.” They came with comforting meals and open hearts to share our grief. We enjoyed just the right amount of wine, along with a peculiar Polish honey liqueur that had a scent reminiscent of cat urine. Amid laughter and tears, I recounted stories of my friend’s final days, and we even indulged in a game of Boggle.
Soon enough, the magic that often occurs in these gatherings unfolded. My daughter found her way to the piano while others picked up instruments, and we all began to sing together. Our group is a tapestry of talent—some are skilled musicians, while others, like me, simply relish the chance to join our voices in a ragged yet joyful chorus. Ultimately, it’s about the melody and harmony that binds us.
We belted out classics like Joni Mitchell’s “River” and The Beatles’ “Let It Be,” alongside Fleetwood Mac’s “Songbird” and Alphaville’s “Forever Young.” With lyrics printed out and teenagers searching for more online, the atmosphere felt heavenly.
Singing together has always been a part of our lives; typically, we gather to celebrate, sometimes planning hootenannies where musicians bring guitars, banjos, and yes, ukuleles. In these lively sessions, we return to cherished songs, including:
- “I’ll Fly Away” by Alison Krauss
- “Kick Drum Heart” by The Avett Brothers
- “When My Time Comes” by Dawes
- “Pecan Pie” by Wilco
- “Kids” by MGMT
- “Goddamn Lonely Love” by Drive-By Truckers
- “Ho Hey” by The Lumineers
- “Hey Ya” by OutKast
- “Shady Grove” (traditional)
- “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
- “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” (Guns N’ Roses version)
If these songs aren’t your style, don’t hesitate to choose a different genre! Sometimes, we send out a single song ahead of time to allow musicians to learn their parts, while those without instruments simply enjoy the music. Whether it’s The Beatles’ “I Will” or Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep,” our gatherings are always uplifting. Occasionally, one of the teenagers brings a trumpet or a cello, adding even more joy.
During my friend’s last days in hospice, death was less a serene lily than a fierce octopus she was battling. Yet, a wonderful young music therapist arrived with her guitar, playing “Across the Universe,” Iron & Wine’s version of “Such Great Heights,” and the Avett Brothers’ “I and Love and You.” These songs brought peace to my friend, and she smiled. Days later, at her memorial service, the cantor sang “You Must Believe in Spring,” so beautifully that it felt like a gentle reminder of hope.
While music doesn’t offer the same comforts as organized religion—like the promise of an afterlife or a clear purpose—it does provide something profound. If you seek the meaning of life, it can be found in song. It’s a form of communion and celebration, expressing our shared humanity. As Leonard Cohen eloquently put it: “And even though it all went wrong / I’ll stand before the Lord of Song / With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.”
So gather with friends, print out some lyrics, and create music together. Whether it’s through a tambourine or even a middle-school oboe, let your voices rise in song.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, Emily Carter shares how music has brought solace and connection in the wake of losing her oldest friend. From impromptu gatherings filled with song to memories of shared melodies, she emphasizes the importance of music in healing and community. By encouraging readers to sing together, she illustrates how music can be a powerful force in navigating life’s challenges.