On Easter Monday my family’s life came to an abrupt halt. My daughter and son-in-law’s first baby was stillborn. It was such a shocking, devastating event. All the hopes and dreams of a new generation, all the expected joy of arrival, now turned into the grief of departure. I flew to Toronto to be with them and was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from family and friends, many of whom had travelled long distances to attend the funeral of a little girl they’d never had the chance to know.
During the days that followed the funeral, we spent a lot of time talking about life and death, trying to make some sense of the purpose behind this loss. My granddaughter was named Strummer, after the musician Joe Strummer who also died before his time. In lieu of flowers, my daughter and son-in-law requested that trees—red maples—be donated to the Joe Strummer Memorial Forest on the Isle of Skye in Scotland.
This was a wonderful idea, but I wanted to do something to memorialize Strummer’s death that was more personal to me. Alone at night in my hotel room, I thought about what I could do that would help me turn a little girl’s death into something positive. People are communicators. We use words, movement, art, and music to tell our stories. This is what makes us human.
On Monday morning I walked through the door of Heinl’s music store. A young man approached and asked if he could be of help, and I replied, “Yes, I’d like to buy a cello.” I knew nothing about cellos and had never played one, but it had always been in the back of my mind that I’d like to try. A used one had just arrived at the music store. I was quoted a price and told it could be shipped to Nova Scotia. I said that I’d think about it. I phoned the next day and bought the cello. And not long after, I found a wonderful music teacher who’s helped me learn to play.
I never had the chance to hold my granddaughter or to hear her laugh, but when I pick up my cello and hold it close to me, when I pull the bow across the strings and attempt to play the music of many generations gone by, I feel that the little girl left me a great and wonderful gift. It led me out of great sorrow and into a world full of song and hope.
Granville Ferry, Nova Scotia