What is the first song you can remember hearing? What were the circumstances? Was someone singing to you, or was it a recording? 

What song changed the way you listened to music? What song takes you back to a favourite memory? What song makes you cry? What song makes you cringe? Turn the volume up? Or down. Makes you move your feet? Shake your booty?

We all have a playlist that could be the backdrop to our life story. One of the tasks of planning my husband’s funeral was to create a playlist. Music had been a big part of his life. He had what is described as ‘wide ears’ and enjoyed Anne Murray as much as he enjoyed AC/DC. Neither of whom are to my taste, but it was his playlist so I included both and a bit of everything in between. It was, in the words of my niece, “Sometimes really sweet and sometimes really rockin’.” A suitable epitaph.

All of us, even if you consider yourself ‘amusical’ have a life playlist. 

During my marriage, there was always music in the background. We never, ever listened to ‘talk radio’. Always music. In the months that followed the funeral I could not listen to music very often. And if I did, I was careful of the selection.

But… I can only listen to so many podcasts or so much CBC, and there had been way too much silence. I missed music as my backdrop. The solution was to task myself with creating my own ‘life playlist’. 

If you’ve haven’t done it already I highly recommend this as an exercise. Develop your own criteria for inclusion, or exclusion. Make it personal. 

My criteria for a song to be included was that I had to love it and it had to be associated with a positive memory. It could be poignant… moving to me, but positive. I started with the first song I remember looking forward to hearing on the radio; Mungo Jerry’s In the Summertime. Shut up, it’s a great tune.

So far, I have over six hours of songs — some oldies and some recent, (Lizzo of course). The range is classical to disco, hiphop, a little rap, old Howlin’ Wolf type blues, Motown, very little ‘classic rock’, no country, no heartfelt love ballads, and… no Anne Murray. (Sorry James). Almost all songs have a rhythm and a dance beat which is not surprising since, terrible dancer that I am, I love to dance anyway.

It’s been a therapeutic exercise. I feel I’ve reclaimed a piece of myself, beyond grieving for my partner. This is my music, with no apologies or concessions. Gosh, as much as I like my playlist, I hope that won’t be my epitaph.

Stay safe everyone.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger, unless it’s a holiday weekend. Or summertime. Facebook or email.