My Sweet Lord- George Harrison
The first time I really heard this song, like really heard it and paid attention to it, was in the lobby of a yoga studio, heading into class.
I heard it and I felt a sense of relief, of my heart expanding out of my chest. I wanted to sing along, or at least hum it. I cried tears of understanding.
I’ve never been a big believer in the ideas behind organized religion. Growing up Catholic, the kind that makes the mandatory biannual Christmas and Easter visits to church, I never felt any sort of connection to the stories, or the guy that my mother or her sisters would refer to in the “ay dios mio” sense when talking about something shocking. I’m still not a believer of organized religion. I’ve seen members of my own family become brainwashed into extreme religion that started with seemingly harmless joining of multi-level marketing businesses, and others sucked in to the idea of a better life and end up becoming the exact opposite of what I would imagine Jesus Christ would really teach.
Even when I heard that Luca wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t automatically think to pray. Maybe it’s because I had already seen the bad things that the prayers could never seem to fix, and good things that just seemed to happen without any prayer at all being involved. I don’t really remember what went through my mind at all the very first time I heard. I think I felt as if I was dreaming a horrible nightmare, and that everything would be fine when I woke up.
I always had an inclination that whatever was meant to happen, would. If I thought prayers would have helped, I would have fell to the ground on my hands and knees, and begged for him to stay. I would have traded anything for the chance to have him live his life, here on earth. I would do anything to have him here and hold him while he cried all night if he needed to, through the sleep deprivation, through the growing pains and teething. Any of it, I would have prayed for, if it would have actually helped.
I don’t know why, at that moment in the lobby of that yoga studio, when I heard George Harrison’s voice sing ‘My Sweet Lord‘, I felt that instant connection. A connection not to what the song said as ‘my lord’ as it relates to Jesus, but instead, to the universe. It was a fleeting one, but there I stood, grounded, like I had an idea as to why I was here.
That moment happened just before I got pregnant with Luca.
The song became a part of Luca’s birth playlist.
That same song I play for her. I cry. You couldn’t possibly be surprised. This is my story. My story is one filled with tears, and that’s part of how I deal with and process the death of my son. It is likely that my eyes will always start to well up when I think of how much I miss him. That’s part of my movement through it. I shed tears for the moments I will never have with Luca, and those that I only hope to have with her. I change the words around and I sing it, to him.
“I really want to see you
Really want to be with you
Really want to see you
But it takes so long, my son”