Angie's Story

by Ashley Larson



After years of taking care of people, I finally understand how much difference music can make in someone’s life. I know that my singing voice is a gift that I shall never underestimate.

Angie Josten was a weathered soul. She raised a family on her husband’s meager income, ran the family farm for over 50 years, and made it to church every Sunday to sing in the choir. I met her in her last months of life, a withered wrinkled version of her former self. Her children will tell you their mother never raised her voice, unless it was in praise to the Lord, singing hymns while she fed the chickens. Angie was content to let others do the talking while she listened attentively. Her calm, quiet demeanor often portrayed a content elderly lady happy to hum her favorite tunes as she watched the birds. But that summer, Angie had a stroke. Life changed for Angie. She could no longer talk, let alone hum; she lost her mobility and was confined to a wheelchair; and most disheartening, she no longer had the ability to smile.

For weeks Angie went to therapy, desperately working to rehabilitate her muscles. Over time she regained the ability to stand for short periods and even managed a crooked half smile. She was never able to sing again. Day after day, she sat in her recliner listening to the birds’ sweet songs, and day by day, she grew more dispirited. A day came where Angie could not sit up, her legs would not work. She tried to explain her problem to the nurse but could only manage a few unintelligible moans. “Be calm, Angie,” the nurse said, “it’s going to be alright.” Angie knew it wouldn’t be; she knew she was dying.

The next few days all blurred together as Angie slept and watched her family come and go constantly. There was no time anymore, just waiting. Sometimes, a nurse would sit by her bedside and read her the daily news or a series of short stories. Angie wasn’t particularly thrilled but was glad for the sound of another’s voice. One evening, a different nurse came in without a book. She quietly took a seat next to the bed and bowed her head in what looked like prayer. The nurse gently took Angie’s hand and began to hum. Angie’s eyes snapped open at the familiar tune, the opening notes of Amazing Grace. With her eyes closed, the nurse proceeded to sing all four verses softly to Angie. As the nurse’s hymn slowly dwindled, a solitary tear rolled down Angie’s cheek, and their eyes met. For one single minute, both women sat in silence and understanding before Angie closed her eyes once again, and fell into a peaceful sleep, never to wake again.