A Song

A song. One single song. Can cause me to become undone and completely derail my day. Without fail “Fight Song” has this affect on me. No matter where I am or what I am doing, when I hear that song my eyes immediately tear up, I start shaking, I get a lump in my throat, a pit in my stomach. I find it hard to breathe and every part of me just wants to flee. Sometimes I can prevent the tears from escaping, but not often. They sneakily push their way out, drawing salty lines down my cheek, making it impossible for me to pretend like everything’s okay. “Fight Song” became Ariella’s anthem during treatment. She sang it frequently and even recorded the song in a professional studio. “Fight Song” was synonymous with Ariella. “Fight Song” was playing as Ariella took her last breaths. “Fight Song” Ariella’s version was played at her funeral. This song will never not be tied to Ariella and her spirit and sass and spunk and resilience. It brings me back to our house, out front, on a beautiful day when she was using her phone to record herself singing it. It brings me back to that recording studio and the pure joy on Ariella’s face while she was singing, which was just a small part of a much bigger day celebrating her end of treatment. It brings me back to the harrowing moment in the hospital room when her soul left her body while David and I were holding her. And it brings me back to her funeral. Hundreds of people and the only sounds you could hear were Ariella’s sweet voice and the sobs of her loved ones.

As counterintuitive as this may sound, I have “Fight Song” on some of my running playlists. Because while it has the affect on me that I explained above, it never fails to remind me of how Ariella never let cancer stop her. I typically do not prefer using words like “fighting” or “fighter” or “warrior” or “battle” when describing those diagnosed with cancer. It implies that if you fight hard enough, you will survive. That there is some choice in the matter. Ariella didn’t fight cancer. Her toxic chemo tried to fight the cancer. But Ariella lived her best life despite cancer. She gave cancer a giant FU by continuing to live joyfully, by participating in her activities, by continuing to dance, and by spending time with her friends. And this song motivates me to do the same in hard times. And it’s perfect for running. Because when the run gets hard this song reminds me that Ariella endured so much worse so I can certainly endure a tough run. The other day I had a long run in the rain. And towards the end “Fight Song” began playing. And it was glorious. The rain mixing with my tears, no one around, and I could cry with abandon. Rain and tears both cleansing my soul, and I felt such a release and sense of renewal following that run.

Trauma. It follows you, clings tightly, and will not release its grip. Trauma is sneaky. Because as time goes on you think its hold on you has lessened. You breathe more easily, you start living again. You smile and laugh more and think you just might one day be okay. But the landmines are still there. They are further apart which makes them more dangerous. Because you are less cautious, less prepared for when you step on one so it catches you off guard. And the explosion hits and completely takes you down. And you have to claw your way out of a deep, dark hole to recover. Sometimes it’s a bit easier to dig your way out but other times, when you find something to hold onto as you drag your way up, you hit another landmine and another part of the wall comes crashing down, bringing you back down with it. These past few weeks have been like that for me. I celebrated Ariella’s heavenly 16th birthday, my Dad’s heavenly 80th birthday, someone I know was killed by a drunk driver, I’ve learned of kids relapsing with cancer and others that are not doing well with their treatments. Israel is being attacked and it’s a scary and uncertain time to be Jewish even here in the US. There’s more but that’s not for me to share here. I didn’t think it was possible but my heart continues to break and it’s getting harder and harder to put the pieces back together. Inevitably each time it breaks pieces get lost. With the death of Ariella I knew my heart would never be whole again, and the hole she left behind keeps growing.

All this to say you never know what someone is going through. People wear masks, pretend like everything is fine when inside they are barely hanging on. But then they step on one of those landmines. And they drop the façade. Maybe they just heard their own trigger song, reminding them of a loved one they lost. Maybe they were grocery shopping and passed the cereal aisle with that giant box of sugary goodness that was a favorite of their child that has died. Maybe they stumbled upon their person’s favorite place, evoking bittersweet memories. I know that when I hear “Fight Song” my mood can change instantly. However sometimes it is for the better. I always cry when I hear the song, but sometimes I smile too.