[a free improvisation recorded shortly after I got the news]
At 4:37 a.m. EDT, June 13, 2024, Amy Karleen Hodson passed away peacefully in her sleep. I knew her as mom. She was a beautiful, strong, caring, and adventurous person. After she married in 1952, she worked for a year to save up enough money to join my dad in Germany, where he was stationed with the US Army. Sixty-five years later, at 82 years old, she flew across the world by herself to join me for a week in Tokyo.
She always supported whatever I was into and loved to hear me play the piano. The last time I played for her, just a couple of weeks ago, she found it difficult to talk and was hardly able to move; nevertheless, as I was playing, she somehow wheeled her way forward to the keyboard and reached over and hit the high C -- the top note on the piano -- while I was playing. I loved that small musical interaction that came out of a mutual feeling of flow. I realized that I ended this free improvisation on that same note, the highest note C on the piano -- feels like mom joined me one last time.
12 июн 2024