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Updated: Sep. 30, 2020
Originally Published: Aug. 22, 2015
As the familiar tune fills the car, my 9-year-old daughter, Lily, pleads, “Can we change this song? I don’t like it.”
“Lily,” I respond, “this is your song!” I can’t help but sing along to the classic refrain: “Sweet Lily, good times never seemed so good.” Despite her protests, shaking her head in the backseat, I refuse to change the station.
It was over a decade ago, shortly after a significant national tragedy, when my parents, husband, and I attended a Neil Diamond concert. Seeking comfort in the familiar tunes of our youth, we relished the nostalgic melodies of the ’70s and ’80s. I vividly remember my dad’s excitement as he high-fived me during “Sweet Caroline.” Surrounded by thousands of clapping fans, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy—pure happiness.
Tragically, just two weeks later, my father, at the age of 58, was diagnosed with brain tumors due to melanoma. The ensuing sadness consumed us all. In a desperate attempt to uplift his spirits, I reached out to a former colleague to secure a signed letter from President Bush, someone my dad admired greatly. The letter arrived just in time for his surgery, bringing a smile to his face as he read it. “He’s a good man, isn’t he, Emily?” my father said. I thought to myself, You are the good man, Dad. This isn’t fair.
After my father passed away six months later in a stark hospital room, I initially attributed my exhaustion to grief, only to discover later that I was also pregnant. This unexpected news brought a glimmer of hope amidst the sorrow. I dug out the infant car seat and a beloved children’s book from my son’s room, finding comfort in the prospect of new life. The pregnancy offered me a brief respite from my tears, even as I struggled to reconcile my emotions with the arrival of a new baby.
When my daughter arrived a month early, she remained unnamed for a while as tests were conducted. We wanted to honor my father with her name, but traditional choices like Gordon didn’t suit a girl. Ultimately, as I held my tiny five-pound daughter, I recalled the lyrics, “How can I hurt when I’m holding you?” The vibrant flowers in the hospital room reminded me of my father’s spirit, and I decided on the name “Lily,” a tribute to our last joyful moment together.
As a toddler, she would joyfully sing along to her namesake song. If she heard it in a store, she would shout, “I came down from heaven as Papa was going up!” However, as she grew older, perhaps influenced by my letter to Neil Diamond—where he kindly responded with an autographed photo that now hangs alongside Elmo in her room—she developed an aversion to the song.
The moment I find myself in the car with her, observing her need to distance herself from me, marks a significant developmental stage. I want to remind her that one day she will hear this song in a bar, sharing its nostalgia with others, just as she will encounter the catchy phrases in various songs. I can’t believe you tried to sell Neil Diamond’s classic hits at our garage sale, I want to tell her. I wish she could have met her Papa; she embodies his love for music and his joyful spirit.
Yet here we are, with her hands over her ears as the song plays. I hold back my thoughts, instead smiling at Lily through the rearview mirror as she searches for Selena Gomez on her iPod. I softly remind myself of the lyrics: “Was in the spring, and spring became a summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”
For those navigating similar emotions and experiences, this blog post provides insight and support. For more information on pregnancy and home insemination, check out resources like American Pregnancy, and for tips on home insemination kits, visit Make a Mom. You can also explore more related topics in our other blog posts, such as the one found here: Intracervical Insemination.
In summary, this narrative intertwines the themes of loss, nostalgia, and the joy of new beginnings. As children grow and change, so too do our connections to the music and memories that shape our lives.