Singing For My Mom

By Barbara Altamirano

My mother always had a beautiful voice. When I was a small child, I always sat next to her in church listening to her sing the hymns. I probably tried to sing along, but never with that much enthusiasm. In my teen years I became a little rebellious. Although I did go to church, no one could force me to sing.

It wasn’t that I had anything against singing, exactly. After all, I loved singing in the privacy of my room or anywhere when I was alone. Of course, the songs I sang were the popular rock songs of the day – not boring old church hymns.

I did belong to my high school’s chorus. I was a little unsure of my voice so in chorus I sang very softly. In fact so softly, that when our choral director spoke of ‘deadwood’ in our ranks, I felt sure he meant me. In chorus I sang a little. In church I still hardly ever sang. Although the choral songs weren’t the songs I listened to on the radio, at least they weren’t church music.

When in my twenties I had finally outgrown my teenage rebelliousness and I began to appreciate some of the hymns. Most of the hymns that I did like were Christmas songs. I still really hadn’t learned to appreciate the non-Christmas songs.

After I got married and started a family of my own I attended church and sat next to my mom. When I was near her I always heard her clear strong voice during all the hymns. Later when she joined our church choir and knowing her voice was one of the group was the next best thing to hearing her singing next to me.

She managed to remain a member of the choir for quite a while even after being diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, a terminal lung disease. Her determination to keep singing even when breathing was difficult spoke to her love of singing and singing for the glory of God.

Eventually, she was forced to quit the choir, but not without much regret. When I sat next to her, I heard her voice, and it was surprisingly still pretty strong. I didn’t want to imagine a time when I would no longer hear it.

But that horrible day did come. We went to church to commemorate her life and for one of the first times in my life I really wanted to sing – especially the songs that I knew had been her favorites. However, my tears made that impossible. I wondered if I would ever be able to sing these songs – songs that I now suddenly realized were beautiful – without my tears stopping me.

On the first Easter without mom I was able to start singing the hymns, but not far before the tears started. One Sunday in Advent, close to a year after my mom’s passing, almost without realizing it, I found myself singing. During one of the songs I experienced a calm consoling feeling that enveloped me. For a moment I thought I heard a clear strong voice that sounded just like my mother. It took me a few seconds to realize that the voice I heard was my own.

Barbara Altamirano Watertown , Connecticut. baltamirano@optonline.net