Lloyd Goldstein

-You really picked the right moment, he’s been so tired and sick. See there, he is smiling. Thank you for coming, as always it is a pleasure to see you. . .I know I am going to lose him, one way or another. I am just glad they are making him more comfortable. He was so sick last night, he barely slept, and it’s always a pleasure to see you . . . This is what she says to me, holding on to and upholding the one that she loves. -I’m just glad that he is more comfortable and that he may sleep tonight. He feels so much better than yesterday. And it’s always a pleasure to see you. . .

I have played for her and her husband several times now. No matter how tired she is or uncomfortable, she closes her eyes and listens, and always finds the energy for one sweet smile as I finish. I often close my eyes while I play, or watch my own hands working, but I always look up at the end of a piece to see that smile.

Today, her energy is better than I have seen it. She is able to become more involved in the process of listening, and sharing her imagination. Francois’ Waltz Etude becomes the work of a mischevious character in a ballet, like the Nutcracker. . . someone who comes on stage when everyone else is away, and the lights are low, and changes things. Moving something here, hiding something there, creating the possiblity for fun and confusion when the rest of the cast returns. I love her for giving me something new to imagine when I play that waltz. Each time we meet and share music, we share a bit more of each other. Once again I feel rich beyond measure.

Sweetness, sweetness and smiles. A man and his daughter sitting together in the doorway of a hospital room, facing outward, facing toward me. Happy to be listening, smiling and enjoying the sounds of music in such an unlikely place. They seem so comfortable together, so much knowing each other, so full of joy in the present, in the here and now. My colleague tells me that this man has made a painting he calls The Road to Remission, and that it is quite beautiful.

Later, at the end of my day I wheel my bass into the studio to pack up and he is there, but now with his whole family, maybe 8 people, all together. I offer to play one for the road, The Road to Listoonvarna and his hands are dancing, and one becomes two, then one last piece, A Walk in the Woods. Now his feet are dancing, IV pole and all and his daughter is up and they are dancing together, embracing and laughing. How can I begin to tell you what a wonderful job this is? How can I begin to thank you for such an opportunity? Thank you. Who am I thanking? Why, you of course!