Walker was one of our younger hospice patients. At 55, he had been stricken with ALS. I was referred to him by our social worker who knew his long history with music. I knew before visiting that he was no longer able to communicate easily, and very difficult to understand, but was fully aware of what was happening to him and around him. I entered his room holding my guitar, and instantly, his face lit up.
Now, I knew that Walker was a life-long guitar player, so I looked to him for guidance as I tuned up. I glanced his way and watched his face as I turned each peg on the guitar. He’d smile if the pitch was true, or make a face if it was off, and together, we got the instrument in tune.
During the time I spent with Walker that day, I played and sang several songs for him. I could tell he liked them by the expression on his face. I also questioned him on his musical preferences by asking yes, no questions: Do you like Journey? (yes), the Beatles? (yes), Air Supply? (no). I told him I wanted to get better at guitar, and his advice, painstakingly spoken, was “practice a lot.”
I only had that one session with Walker, but it’s one I’ll never forget. Walker reminded me that music can connect two individuals, despite physical limitations and despite communication impairments. He also reminded me to continue working toward what is important. I know that the session was meaningful to him, too, because I heard back from the social worker and Walker’s wife how much he enjoyed it. I felt honored to bring music to a fellow musician.