Before the Notes Fade
Reflections on Memory, Music, and the Stories That Shape Us
Lately, I've been thinking about how stories slip away.
Not the big, polished ones we tell at birthdays or holidays, the familiar tales that everyone expects. I mean the soft ones. The quiet stories. The ones that live between the lines of daily life and sometimes only return with a smell, a song, or a faded photograph.
For me, it's often music that brings those memories rushing back. Sometimes, they are the songs that my mother, Carol, loved and passed on to me without ever realizing how deeply they would echo in my life. It's her humming in the kitchen, the way she harmonized with a radio tune in the car, or how she blasted her beloved music through the neighborhood on warm summer days with the door open and fans working overtime. These are the moments that linger. And they're the ones I miss most now.
My journey with my mom, primarily through her graceful handling of dementia, showed me how quickly those tender details can vanish. Alzheimer's slowly dims the light of memory, both for the person experiencing it and for the ones who love them. There were days she didn't remember the significant events, but a melody could still make her eyes light up. Music anchored her. And in a way, it anchored me, too.
It reminded me of how fragile memory is, yet how powerful it can be.
There's a scene in the 1986 film Peggy Sue Got Married that has stayed with me for years. Kathleen Turner plays Peggy, a woman on the verge of divorce who finds herself transported back to her high school years in 1960. There are funny and touching moments as she interacts with younger versions of her friends and family. One scene has always stood out.
Peggy gets a phone call from her grandmother. In the world of 1985, her grandmother is no longer there. But here, in 1960, she hears her beloved grandmother's voice again. And she breaks down. That ordinary moment profoundly captured something I didn't fully grasp the first time I watched it when I was 25. Now, having lost loved ones of my own, I understand it completely.
That's why I hold so tightly to a single line from my author bio, printed on the back cover of Carol's Playlist, the first book in my new series: Echoes and Journeys, to be published on the Our Legacy platform.
"Before the notes fade through memory and time…"
It's more than a poetic phrase. It's a mission and a quiet invitation.
Remember what matters most, whether laughter in a kitchen, a spontaneous sing-along, or a familiar hand on your shoulder as you peel apples together. The things that don't always make it into the photo album or the holiday newsletter.
We don't need to be bestselling authors or public figures to leave a lasting legacy. We need to pay attention. And, when the moment feels right, write it down.
Over the past few years, I've helped others do just that: capture their life stories and legacies, often for the benefit of future generations. I realized that I, too, had a few stories worth telling. That's what inspired Echoes and Journeys, a series of short books about the people, places, and passions that have shaped my life, and I hope will resonate with yours.
The first book in the series, Carol's Playlist, will be available soon. However, before I share the details, I would like to pause for a moment. To offer this:
If you have a story to tell, a moment that changed you, a person who loved you well, or a place that still lives in your heart, don't wait.
Write it down. Record it. Speak it aloud. Do it in your way. But do it.
Because one day, someone will be grateful you did.