My biggest and fan and supporter (and creator along with my pop) Ann Muir is now dancing in the great beyond. I wanted to share this with you, fans and friends near and far, because she truly informed much of my life's work and play. She passed away quietly in her sleep from complications due to Alzheimer's on January 27th.
When my dad delivered the news of her Alzheimer diagnosis at the start of the pandemic I put down the phone and bawled, raged and then wrote a gritty punk song She'll Never Forget Me in minutes. I'll never forget her telling me when she was in her 60's (when the foreshadowings may have begun) that being diagnosed with any form of dementia was her worst nightmare. And so a new journey began for us all. It was an intense education. At times brutal - at others surreal and strangely sweet. I know it comes in all shapes and forms so I'm grateful that I was able to journey with her in person these past three years before she boot scooted off this mortal coil.
Since she passed things have been moving slow. I've been moving slow. For some time I didn't feel like singing. Then all I could do was sing. Now I'm working on a country waltz collaboration sparked by lyrics to a chorus she wrote that I found on a post-it note stuck to a favourite poetry collection of hers. Incredible spending time with her inner landscape. And yes, she gave me permission to read her private writings. I asked her time and again when I could read her writing and she told me “You can read it when I'm dead!”. And so I am.
Ann (aka mombo chicken) was an incredible person and I'm so grateful that she was my mom. Her love of making people laugh - of connecting - creating - poetry writing - care giving - lives on with and through me. Amongst the hundreds of swirling memories, I'll never forget her telling me “There are no small roles, only small actors” and "The show must go on!" when I was discouraged after a botched audition. If you knew mom or are a fan/friend of mine and would like to honour her memory, take yourself out to the theatre, buy a record from a local musician, gift someone you love a book, treat yourself to a chocolate chip cookie or put on Always Look on the Bright Side of Life by Monty Python and let yourself dance to it freely!
Photo: Kingston, Ontario. Circa 1985. I had never seen this photo of her until we went through her meticulous photo albums the week after she passed. To me it best represents her spirit - playful, welcoming in nature - my beautiful, blue-eyed mom flying free. If you're curious to know her story click here.