Does The Music Help Them Let Go?

A body on the cusp of the end. A body who has lived a lifetime. A body waiting for the soul to let it go. Then, music...

Hi friends,

Thanks for reading! If you enjoy today’s post… please share.

Did you know that if you hit the heart at the top or the bottom of this email you will make my day and it will make it easier for others to find this publication. Thanks!

He’s in his 90s. He has dementia and various medical needs. He was just moved to in-patient hospice care. He’s close to the end. I got a referral to provide music therapy as comfort for ‘end of life’. This is a significant part of my work as a music therapist in a hospital setting.

When I entered his room, he was in bed with his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow and somewhat labored, but he didn’t appear to be in any pain or distress. His wife was there, sitting in a chair, bedside, and she had a look of sadness, but acceptance, as I greeted her. She was very welcoming of some music.

I started in on the guitar, just to set the tone, a soothing soundscape. He remained at his baseline, but, I felt as though the music was getting through. (I always feel as though the music gets through.) His wife looked at me and gave a soft smile. [I often wonder what the wife, husband, parent, child, is feeling in these moments. And I always have them in mind as well while facilitating the music.]

Eventually, I worked my way into some structured songs, songs from the time when they were young, and life was making an impression on them.

[Our research shows that songs from our youth—teens into our early 20s—are powerfully embedded in our brains. The soundtrack of life. These are the songs that were present during some of the most important times and events that shaped adulthood. Facilitated our sense of self. This is the music that triggers nostalgia and memory and activates the medial pre-frontal cortex and the hippocampus in the brain, the seat of our memories. This is the music we hold onto forever.]

I started singing ‘Bicycle Built For Two’… and then it happened. Right in rhythm. Right on pitch - he started to sing. “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true. I’m half crazy, over my love for you.” I would have been taken aback if I were surprised. His wife looked at me and we both smiled. He sang the entire song. Then, ‘And The Band Played On’… every word. Parts of ‘When You Wish Upon A Star’, ‘Edelweiss’, ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’.

He just kept singing. He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t ‘wake up’. (Although his breathing was less shallow, and his respiratory rate was a little better.) He just sang.

When I finished, his wife gave a genuine smile and thanked me. She looked a little more peaceful, as did he.

About an hour later… he passed.

That was not the first time that has happened. Perhaps it’s coincidence. Perhaps it’s something ‘more’. You see… music, art, creativity, connects us to something bigger. There’s meaning, beauty, aesthetics, connection. Music and the arts engage physiological and neural systems and also connects the body to the mind and (I believe) to the spirit.

There is a hospice nurse that I work with who will sometimes give me referrals and say, “They are holding on. They just need to let go. Can you bring some music in to help?” Does the music help them let go? There certainly is no way to know. But I’ve been there several times. A body on the cusp of the end. A body who has lived a lifetime. A body waiting for the soul to let it go. Then… music. I ‘see’ something change. I ‘feel’ something change. Sometimes they sing even though they haven’t communicated in days. Sometimes they move, as if ‘releasing’. Sometimes I see no physical change. But always, I feel ‘something’. A connection. To them. To myself. To something bigger. Does the music help them to let go?

I feel so honored to do this work. I feel like a conduit. I enter the space, make a connection, and the music just seems to ‘come out’. I am honored to be able to facilitate, help, provide comfort—through music—as a life is about to transition to something beyond what we all know. Of course there is sadness. I see tears and sorrow and fear and uncertainty in family members and friends who are there, bedside. I feel sadness too. After all, a life is ending. But when I leave the room, after the music’s final cadence, I also feel peaceful in a way that is different and I can’t really put into words. Peaceful…

The first thing we do when babies are born is we sing to them. It seems fitting that when that life is about to end, we sing to them again, to help complete the full circle. The curtain comes down with a final resolving chord. There are so many questions that are unanswered. But I can’t deny what I feel through the connection of sharing a music experience with someone as they are about to finally let go. It’s beyond words. But if I had to pick one… honor. I feel honored to have been there.

“Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There’s a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby…”

The healing power of music…

(*The stories presented in this blog are based on accounts or experiences and are not actual accounts or experiences.)

Raymond Leone, MMT, MT-BC is a board-certified music therapist based in Northern Virginia and writes extensively about music and wellness.