Music

I'm not an accomplished singer, by any means. I do miss singing Ben Fold's "The Luckiest" while having Laura accompanying me. And I miss listening Mom sing a song about the temple (I don't recall the title) while having Laura accompany her. Laura, you were an accomplished pianist. I could never get an accurate read on just how much natural talent you had (a great deal, I suspect) because what I did observe was how hard you worked and how diligent you were about practicing. It was always a little magical when you would start learning a new piece of music for me to listen to the transformation as you mastered the intricacies of something that at the beginning was just a little beyond your current skill level. It never took very long, of course, before your skills expanded. I remember how nervous you would get at piano recitals, even though you always played spectacularly and rarely made any miscues. I never could figure out a way to get you to relax, not worry about any wrong notes, and enjoy performing. Being a perfectionist sucks so much joy out of life, even though it can produce great results. I'm sorry I don't have recordings of your music to listen to now. I really miss hearing you play. Thank goodness I have the memories of your playing with all your heart and soul. I'm sorry I could never prevail upon you to sing with me in church. But I'm glad for the times we sat next to one another in meetings and harmonized as we sang hymns. Music remains my favorite part of worship and I feel you close when I sing. But I miss hearing your part and how good you could make me sound. Thanks for the magic. Love, Dad