a jig for grandma

Yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of my Grandma Marilyn’s death .  My grandma was always there for me, and I undeniably feel her absence.  

 I wanted to play something on my violin as a tribute to her. I planned on playing something by a great classical composer, with movements that expressed weighty things like love, dying, and resurrection.  These are things I’ve thought a lot about the past year. But instead, these days whenever I picked up my violin, and thought about my grandma, I just wanted to play something fun . . so I went with it.

It seems authentic to my feelings about grandma to play music that makes me want to get up and dance.  My relationship with her was easy, undiluted joy. It was uncomplicated, full of good times, and instant gratification. It was a jig.

Unlike classical, when you fiddle, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You can take it for what it is- unpolished, a little spunky, a little off pitch at times, and still love it.  That’s exactly what my grandma did for me.

 (Our kids had stolen our camera and were yelling at us to be quiet.  It's the first of many jam sessions, and they're bound to get better. )