I mentioned in a recent post how singing sad songs gives me joy. To be clear, this is more of the soothing and comforting variety that feels like a sonic embrace. Some of my favorite sad songs to sing are the ones about missing someone.
Lately, I have been singing a beautiful, sad love song from the 1980s called Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx. Even though its original version is a piano ballad (and I am actually a pianist), I have enjoyed playing it on my tenor ukulele.
This week, I filmed myself performing the song on my uke, and instead of doing so in my studio, I decided to try capturing it outside. As I sang the song into the camera, my ears noticed that there was quite a bit of birdsong happening all around me as I filmed. This unexpected layer of sonic magic melted my face.
If you press play in the video above, you can watch me perform the song and hear birds singing, too. (For fun, I added some cinematography of the trees in my garden.)
Right Here Waiting is about missing someone who is far away and the resolute willingness to stand by for however long it takes until that person returns.
In my case, I think about people I have known who passed away that I will never see again.
My friend Darrell cheered me on when I was a shy, upstart singer/songwriter. Years ago, when I lived in Charlotte, NC, he always went with me to local open mics. (Now, when I step on a stage to perform, I try to make him proud.)
I think of my friend Debbie, who passed away immediately after her young son died unexpectedly a few years ago. I like to imagine that they are together somewhere out in the universe.
I remember my grandparents, Socorro and Rafael, who I spent time with when I was young. They were kind, good people who loved their children and grandchildren very much.
Missing these friends and loved ones is my version of standing by. It is an expression of my love. Because I will not see them again, this is the best I can do.
I sing sad songs for the people I miss, and now, I might sit outside more to sing with birds when I do it. This is a sweet layer of comfort I did not know I needed.
When these birds fly away, the distances they travel will be as expansive as the longing that is too big and heavy for me to hold.
Wherever they fly, they will keep singing.
May they fly far, and ever farther, away.
Share this post