I sometimes wonder how it's possible to still enjoy a piece of music when so much sadness is associated with it. Nostalgia can be a powerful adhesive when it comes to attaching music to a moment, even when the reappearance of that moment brings back true pain.

Does the intensity of the memory matter here? How do you compare the memory of the song you were listening to on the car radio while enjoying that very last kiss of a summer romance ("Give A Little Bit" - Supertramp) against the tune you remember hearing the night before your mother passed away? For most people, the latter would "win," but does that mean that the song can never be enjoyed again?

For a while now, I have been thinking that it might be a good idea to write the story of my mother's death. Yes, the world is full of such stories. Mine went a little beyond a single event, with my sister and father leaving the planet less than a year later. The writer in me believes that there's a story in there. The rest of me thinks that it might be a form of therapy.

One thing is certain, Beyond The Missouri Sky seems to get more intimate and inspiring as time eases on. Is that a sign that I should take that next step?

I don't know. I was never handed the rulebook for how to deal with this kind of thing. The right thing to do? That hasn't made itself known to me. Yet.

Instigating material: Charlie Haden & Pat Metheny - Beyond The Missouri Sky