Hello, friends! This is Lauren writing–in April, we shared Stephen’s story behind composing the tune Hallowell (you can read that post and watch the video here). Today, we want to share the audio track and a little about what Hallowell has meant more personally.
My biggest association with Hallowell is around my mom’s death in 2003. Shortly before she died, a group of singers from the Guilford Community Church came over, crowded into her bedroom with me, my dad, and my sister, and sang for her. Despite being so close to the end, she perked up with the music, sitting up and singing along. We were all surprised by the powerful effect the music had on her, and on everyone in the room. Our hospice volunteer, Kathy Leo, witnessed that event unfold and, when Brattleboro Area Hospice asked if she would be willing to organize a group to bring music to more people at the end of their lives, she agreed. Kathy recruited local choir leaders Peter Amidon and Mary Cay Brass to help her start a hospice choir to sing for the dying, and they called it Hallowell.
I honestly don’t remember if the group gathered at my mom’s bedside sang Hallowell that day, or a few days later when everyone came back to sing again, but the song will always remind me of those days. It continues to be one of my favorite pieces about living through loss and grief for its honesty about how painful it is, coupled with its sense of hope without any of the sentiment that was never helpful for me–“everything happens for a reason” and/or “they’re in a better place now.” Hallowell showed me a way to imagine life beyond the terrible pit of grief that also included space for grief’s ongoing presence, rather than trying to “be done” with grieving in order to move on with living.
I hope that Hallowell can be a comforting embrace to you, as it has been for me.
