I’ve been home for over a week now but I’m still suffering from jet lag. I find myself waking up between 1:30 and 3:00 am every morning, in spite of going to bed around 11 pm. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to go back to sleep; other mornings I grab my phone and check my email!

Last weekend at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, during the prayers, there was a familiar name read for people who “have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection.”

August 28, Carl Crosier (2014)

Yes, it has been twelve years since my husband, Carl, joined the heavenly choir and never has to hear choristers singing out of tune! I admit that I felt a twinge of sadness that it’s been so many years on my own.

So it was only fitting today, that I had a conversation with a former Early Music Hawaii board member, who told me she recently joined the Threshold Choir. I had not heard of it, so she shared the website information.

Kindness Made Audible: Bringing Songs of Comfort to the Dying

Our a cappella singing is a gentle blessing to anyone at a threshold in their life.

We sing gentle, non-religious songs in three-part harmony using soft, lullaby voices.

Our repertoire, shared by all chapters in the international Threshold Choir organization, was written specifically to convey ease, comfort, and presence.

We have chapters in countries around the world, and are available to visit bedsides in homes, hospitals, and care facilities. We bring three or four singers to sing at a bedside.

Doesn’t it sound like a great idea? Maybe we could form our own group to sing early music!

Years ago, several members of the choir at the Lutheran Church of Honolulu sang at the bedside of Walter Williams, former chorister, an experience I’ll never forget. As we sang Richard Farrant’s “Lord, for thy tender mercy’s sake,” the machines which were connected to Walter’s body started beeping crazily, and my thought was, “Oh, no. We’re going to kill him with our singing!” I also remember that in the ICU, the reverberant acoustics were ideal for singing!

Here is a recording of the Cambridge Singers performing the Farrant piece.

I shared that a small group of singers sang at the bedside of Ian Capps, former president of Early Music Hawaii and that he was moved by it.

In November 2011, I wrote about two incidents about music sung or played at deathbeds.

Music for the dying has a profound effect because apparently, the sense of hearing is the last to go, and often it’s music sung around the deathbed that releases the person from life into death. In 2003 we held an Association of Lutheran Church Musicians regional conference at LCH and one of the workshop presenters told about his father’s battle with brain cancer. When the family started singing a favorite hymn, tears started rolling down the man’s cheeks, even though he had been unresponsive for weeks before.

A deathbed scene in which the music of Bach played an important role happened right here in Hawaii, with the late organist Robert T. Anderson, whose memorial service was held at LCH. Local organist and harpist Nyle Hallman brought her harp to Anderson’s bedside and started playing. Suddenly when she started playing Bach’s “Jesu, joy of man’s desiring,” he opened his eyes. He died a short time later.

And you may remember that I acted as a “deathbed DJ” with my own husband’s last day, as I tried to play music that he had conducted, especially music of J. S. Bach:

You’ve probably heard that hearing is the last sense to lose before dying, and hospice nurses encourage you to talk to the person even though they cannot respond. When my mother had a stroke three years ago and was in the hospital, my brother held the phone up to her ear so that I could say my final thank you and farewell. I didn’t know whether she heard me or not, because at that point she couldn’t answer me.

On Wednesday morning, when I woke up at 5:30 am, I thought that Carl Crosier had suffered a stroke, because his body was completely paralyzed — he could neither move his arms or legs, and I found him with his head wedged between the mattress and the bed frame. When I spoke to him, his speech was slurred and his answers unintelligible. I immediately called the hospice nurse to assess his condition and the decision was made to transport him to a hospice facility at St. Francis West in Ewa Beach. While we were waiting, I called Father David Gierlach who came shortly to read scripture and prayers. When we got to the Lord’s Prayer portion of the service, Carl made some noises like he was saying those familiar phrases with us.

Shortly after we arrived at St. Francis West, Carl became completely unresponsive and was unable to speak at all. John Renke joined Carl’s sister, Carol, and me around his bedside, and he pulled up Bach Cantata 106 from YouTube, Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit (God’s time is the best time), with Gustav Leonhardt conducting. It was a beloved recording we had played many times, and after the familiar strains of the opening sinfonia, a miracle happened. At the beginning of the opening chorus, Carl lifted his left hand and started to conduct! It was truly a miracle, because we knew he was unable to move his arms and legs! The three of us were witnesses to Carl’s hearing this most beloved Bach work, which you can hear in the video link above.

The next day, Thursday, I felt like I was a “deathbed deejay,” as I tried to find sound files on YouTube that Carl might enjoy.

At that point, we didn’t know he could hear any of the music. But after I played this next selection for him, Carl’s sister said to me, “He must know that piece!” It was the Dona nobis pacem from Bach’s B-Minor Mass! the last piece, Carl conducted in concert. After the triumphant conclusion of the piece, Carl was visibly moved and we saw tears come down from his eyes.

Rest in peace, dear Carl.