Story time:
I used to work for a small private school as the group violin teacher for 2nd-4th graders. While at that school I had the immense pleasure of working with a Mrs. G and a Mr. M., two individuals who had been at the school for a lot longer than I had. Mrs. G and I had a special connection. She had been my high school musical theater coach and had always encouraged me in my pursuit of a music degree. I taught Mr. M’s son in my violin class and he was the only parent who consistently asked what he could be doing to support his son’s progress in class – major brownie points!
So what does this have to do with crying?
In February of 2021 Mrs. G needed emergency medical aid. While in the hospital, she suffered some sort of cardiac event and fell into a coma. Her funeral was in April. Because of covid restrictions on travel, I was unable to attend. I was gutted.
That same month, Mr. M suffered a heart attack and was comatose for several days. Miraculously, he is alive and has recently been sent home to his family. My heart is so full for them because they get to have more time together, while Mrs. G’s family must learn to live without her.
I don't have any sort of "how to heal from loss" wisdom.
For that, you should seek professional help. What I CAN tell you is that sometimes playing an instrument when you’d rather cry helps you start to heal. And sometimes, crying it out is what will let you start to play again. There is no “right” answer. In the days leading up to Mrs. G’s funeral I waffled between crying and playing. A LOT. Sometimes my “playing” was just me making sounds on my viola – ugly, dissonant sounds that were the closest I could get to putting my emotions outside of my body. And sometimes they were hymns and lullabies from my childhood because I wanted to remember times when I was happy. And sometimes they were pieces or bits of technique when I suddenly had the mental energy to tackle them. They were all valid and necessary to me saying goodbye in a healthy way. The video below is one of the times where I started with a fiddle tune that I like to play when I’m sad and ended up “wandering around” the melody and tones until I could catch my breath again.
I think it is so easy for us as musicians, teachers, and parents to quickly push ourselves and our students through emotional pain because it’s uncomfortable. It takes time, patience and compassion to be with someone who is working out their grief, no matter the size of it. But if we are to live in accord with ourselves we MUST allow room for grief. We MUST recognize when our bodies need time away from our instruments or when we need to take out our emotions through playing. Send anyone who tells you otherwise to me.