On the day I was to meet Gordon Berg for this story, I woke at 4:00 A.M. missing my big sister Janet.
I was laying awake and wondering if I’d ever get over that deep longing to share another moment with her. Janet passed away almost two years ago (June 8, 2023).
Is it a universal feeling that no matter how much time we have with our loved ones, it’s just never enough? Well, that’s how I feel.
Getting ready to meet Gordon, a music volunteer for Hospice of Michigan, triggered more than my early morning wake up. It also took me back to a memory I hold very sacred.
My sister Janet was the oldest of five children. She was a retired teacher, golfer, knitter and basket weaver with more friends than I could count. And Janet's extensive village really showed up for her during her 18 month cancer journey. Helping with meals, appointments, even just checking in daily was so helpful and appreciated.
When Janet was admitted to the tender care of Angela Hospice down in Livonia for her final transition, my siblings and I sat at her bedside for more than 24 hours. Between visits from family and so many of Janet’s friends, I walked into the lobby and came across a woman carrying a guitar. I had a feeling she was a music therapist, so I asked if she’d play for my sister, who loved country music.
When she got the nod from her supervisor that it was ok, we walked into Janet’s room together. She sat by Janet’s bed and softly sang Dolly Parton’s "Light Of A Clear Blue Morning".
As the music therapist started playing, I couldn't believe how perfectly the lyrics matched Janet’s experience. I was recording it all on my phone and can hear my gentle weeping when she sang the first line: “It’s been a long, dark night.”
It was exactly what we needed to hear, especially the verse: “Everything’s gonna be alright, it’s gonna be ok.”
But on this day that I was to meet Gordon Berg, I tucked that sacred memory of my sister back into my heart so I could listen deeply to Gordon's story.
Gordon is a retired advertising and marketing man with a life-long passion for music. He’s been volunteering for Hospice of Michigan for the past eight years.
“As people age and enter the last life stage, it’s a time of reflection," Berg said. "They’re looking back and validating their lives and what they did with their lives. I think music can help make those connections for them.”
As he gets to know patients, Gordon customizes set lists with music that transports them to meaningful moments in their lives. Often it’s music they listened to in their teens or twenties or it’s music their kids listened to.
Gordon likes to end his sets with a song called "Always" by Irving Berlin, which he played for me during our interview.
As he plays, I imagine a sweet, white-haired woman and her family. As they listen to the lyrics, something shifts.
“They get quiet," said Berg. "Sometimes their eyes well up a little bit. There's the notion of always being there for you, of always being surrounded by love, regardless of what's going on in your life that is just really, really reassuring and gives people a sense of hope.”
Gordon says the music shifts him, too.
“It is one of the most meaningful gifts that I can give to people and at the same time any teacher will tell you what you give to your students you get back even more, and that’s how I feel about this,” said Berg.
What I didn’t expect as I interviewed Gordon was a shift in me.
Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to the words and melody. I not only see Gordon, his patients and their families, I see my beloved sister… healthy… eyes sparkling… looking at me with her big, beautiful smile.
In my mind, we are sharing another moment together.
That’s the healing power of music that Gordon Berg has witnessed again and again.
