I went searching today, through drawers, cabinets, and boxes, looking for the CD that holds my father playing his guitar and harmonica. Not only had I mentioned his harmonica playing to a friend last night, but when my heart is hurting and tears sting, I find great comfort in hearing my dad play those old hymns. He can't be here in body, but he feels close when I listen to his music.
This isn't on the CD, and I've posted it before, but it's one I love too. I remember the days he would sing it when I was just a little girl, probably six or seven years old. I learned to love his music, the way he played his instruments and how he sang, but sadly, I never learned to play.
Sometimes listening to him play helps me cry, and sometimes it just calms my anxious heart and thoughts. I will be forever grateful for the gifts he left behind to help me through hard times.
The Barn Collective.
12 hours ago