In May of 2006, a group of Australian miners got trapped underground after a shaft collapsed. Rescuers were able to get a little hole drilled down to the survivors for provisions such as food and water. One of the survivors asked for an iPod with Foo Fighters songs on it. They were trapped in the mine for two weeks. They credited listening to the Foo Fighters helped them in their darkest time.
In the weeks after Fi's death, I couldn't listen to music. I had spent a good part of my pregnancy listening to various songs in an effort to educate her in the wonders of music. So, I didn't turn on my radio. I didn't want to listen to anything, but man, the car can get really quiet and your thoughts can get loud. My thoughts were worse than the music. So, for some reason, I was reminded of this story about the miners. I thought, if they could stare down the idea of possible death with the help of this band, I could wade through my grief with their music.
Every song became my anthem! Even songs that were about things not related to my situation, somehow had meaning to me. I would sing the lyrics of "The Best of You" at the top of my lungs in the shower. I was serenading the demon in my head that was getting the best of me. I would take a moment to cry or say a prayer of gratitude during "Times like These." Or heck, just blast "congregation" in the car to drown out my thoughts. It was therapeutic. There wasn't any emotion already attached to these songs. I could listen without fear of suddenly remembering being pregnant and happy. I could have whatever emotion I wanted! Somehow this music gave me a bit of control.
On the day of my first appointment, "Everlong" came on the radio. I took it as a small sign. I said a thank you and began to relax as I approached the office. At my next appointment, "Walk" was playing on the Muzak in the office. I thought to myself, "hmmm., what a nice coincidence." Then when I heard yet ANOTHER song on my way to an unexpected appointment I said , "ok, I get the point. You're here!"
At our last appointment, I hadn't heard anything on the radio and although it didn't worry me, the thought was in my head. Then the most amazing, weird, awesome (fill in the blank) thing happened. A nurse came out to get a patient and called out the name Elizabeth. Two women stand up and the nurse was about to clarify when one of the said "You mean, Elizabeth Taylor?" And the nurse nodded. It was that the woman's name happened to be the same as my adorable kitty, but the woman, I SHIT YOU NOT, had a Foo Fighters t-shirt on. For real. Let that sink in.
Do I think that the dead are trying to communicate with me? I don't know, but what I do know is that the universe is sending me messages. I am receiving the, loud and clear! I love being open to seeing the signs that someone is listening. I can't wait to have more.
The Foo Fighters helped me to fight through my grief and continue to enjoy music without fear. Now their music brings a different level of comfort.
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