In an email from my friend Dave, I heard this morning of the death of folk singer Kate McGarrigle. I'm not exactly sure why, but it pierced my heart. I love(d) the music she and sister Annie could make and the fact that the clip Dave appended was a waltz redoubled the sorrow. I am a pure sucker for waltzes.
What is it about beloved music? It is intangible and yet capable -- as with Beethoven's "Pastoral" or the McGarrigle waltz -- of opening me up, of stripping me to the unreachable reaches of love, and of making me know that there is something I would literally die for.
I cannot say my sadness.
I cannot say my love.
I cannot say my music.
I don't mind being called a fool.