SINGING FOR ADA C 2012
A man had approached me after I’d performed at a local function (I sing and accompany myself on a guitar) and asked me if I’d go to his house to sing for his daughter, Ada. He explained that Ada wasn’t having a good day and had been unable to attend my performance. She’d been very upset over missing this event, having looked forward to it with keen anticipation.
“I will take you and bring you back in my car,” he said.
This man was a total stranger. I hesitated to accept, but then his eyes filled with tears, “Ada is very sick,” he whispered, his face stricken with pain. “I don’t know how much longer… I’ll have her. She’s all I have – her mother died last year.” Taking out his handkerchief, he blew noisily into it. “She was so disappointed to have missed your performance.”
I leaned over and squeezed his hand. “Of course I’ll come. When?”
“Could you come right now?” he looked anxiously at me. “It would mean the world to Ada.”
We got in his car and drove to a beautiful house, nestled at the bottom of the Corcovado Mountain, on which the figure of Christ the Redeemer blesses Rio de Janeiro. As we approached, I noted the beautiful grounds surrounding the house, neatly trimmed lawns, flowers of every colour and hue, pergolas and trellises supporting rambling roses, bougainvillea in a variety of purple, pink and white lush flowers. The house itself was magnificent, a large white Portuguese Colonial style house with red clay tiled roof, surrounded by porticos and verandas. This man was obviously very rich.
“You have a magnificent home,” I said.
At the wheel, he turned and noted my awed expression. “I’d give it all up, everything I own, to have Ada with me, even for just a few years.”
We got out of the car and walked up the stone pathway to the massive mahogany front door. He unlocked it and led me inside. “Ada, I’m home,” he called.
I stood in the hallway, gazing around me in awe at the beauty all around me. Glorious paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, gorgeous antique furniture adorned with works of art, but what impressed me the most were the flowers – flowers in vases everywhere. The scent they emitted was intoxicating. I’d never been in such a magnificent house before in my entire life.
“Come,” he said taking my hand. “Ada is in the living room.
When we entered the room, I saw Ada. She was reclining in a padded wheelchair of some sort. A tiny 8 year old girl who couldn’t have weighed more than 40 lbs., if that. Skinny little arms and legs that flailed around, thin emaciated body that jerked convulsively – even to my untutored eye, it was obvious that she had cerebral palsy and equally obvious that she was dying. Then I saw her eyes – beautiful. liquid amber eyes, eloquent, shining with intelligence and courage. The attending nurse slipped out of the room.
Swallowing a large lump in my throat, I walked over to her, carrying my guitar. Sitting on the sofa next to her, I took her jerking hand and following an impulse I cannot explain, raised it to my cheek and rubbed it gently.
“Hello Ada, how lovely to meet you. Your Daddy said you were disappointed you couldn’t have come to my performance today, so guess what? You’re going to have your very own private concert right here!”
Ada’s face broke into a big smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. I fell in love with this sweet wisp of a girl on sight.
And so I sang for Ada. I sang my heart out for her and let me tell you, although I’d performed many times before and have since, none of them mattered as much as the time I sang for this brave little girl. Nor have I ever had a more appreciative audience. Ada’s face glowed, she laughed at my silly songs, tried to applaud for each one of them, but didn’t have the motor skills to do it, so she settled for waving her arms enthusiastically instead.
I got up to go when I perceived that Ada was tiring. Immediately she asked for a hug, which I bent over and gave her, kissing her soft little cheek while she wrapped her tiny arms around my neck tightly. “Will you come back and sing for me again?” she whispered anxiously.
“Of course I will,” I replied fighting back tears.
When her father dropped me off at home, he tried to pay me for my performance – I flatly refused telling him I considered it to have been an honour and privilege to have sung for Ada.
Unfortunately, I never got to sing for Ada again. She died two days later. I like to think I brought her a degree of pleasure and enjoyment in her final days, and know I will never forget her. She holds a very special place in my heart
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What a lovely thing to do , you will always remember that litle girl , it brought a tear to my eye jo jo thank you peggy xx
Thanks so much for your comment Peggy – it was an awesome experience for me.
wow jo what can i say ‘cept brilliant and what a touching story…loved it 🙂
I am delighted that you enjoyed reading about little Ada and what a special memory she is to me. Thanks so much for commenting.
Joanna you really are something else. Just great. I just love your style. How about some more soon.
Bill G
Bill, coming from a many times published author, I really appreciate your comments. I hope you’ll put on lots of your writing on here too because I think you’re a brilliant writer. Thanks so much for commenting.
Joanna, What a beautiful story and loved reading it and hope you will write some more as I have missed reading the things you write in S.C. Marie
Dear Marie, my friend, thanks so much! As always, your kind words touch me. I haven’t posted many blogs of late because I’m busy writing my children’s story IN THE LAND OF FANTASIA – some chapters of which I did post on here.
Thanks so much for commenting.
Great story Jojo, so sweet and special and what a fantastic memory for you and her family. x ~M
Thanks so much Millie – am delighted you enjoyed reading it and yes, it is a wonderful treasured memory.
JOJO am crying after r reading that my daughter has cerebal palsy at birth she was given 12 hours to live i was told any more she’d be a cabbage just how wrtong can these doctors be she is 39 now very much wheelchair bound and lives in her own hosue left us at an early age wanted her indepenace she was born on the fourth of jul.y
So happy for you too, Padraig. What a blessing. x ~M
Paddy, your daughter’s courage and determination in overcoming her handicap is awesome. I believe this is why she’s alive, as healthy as she can be and independent today. She’s awesome and an inspiration to everyone, and especially to those youngsters who suffer from cerebral palsy. You must be so proud of her! Thanks so much for sharing her success with us.
Paddy so glad you have your darling daughter (((((hugs)))) mate xxx
What a beautiful, touching story jojo. thank you xxxx
Thanks for your kind comments skip, I very much appreciate them. Glad you enjoyed my story.
Dear Jojo what a fascinating life you have had – you have touched so many. I have been away from SC recently having had my total knee replacement redone, and I only come in in small spurts as I can’t sit for too long in one place. I was so glad to see your blog – have missed your writings, and so excited to see that you are still writing IN THE LAND OF FANTASIA – I love this and look forward to getting it when it is published. I hope you are in good health now. Take care xoxox
Dear Foreveryoung, I am sorry to hear about your knee surgery, but know that once you’re fully healed from it, you will be sooo much better off. My sister had both her knees done and it was a real blessing to her.
You inspired me to continue writing IN THE LAND OF FANTASIA, and I’m up to chapter 10 so it’s coming along. Thanks so much for that, and for your comments – I really appreciate the support and encouragement.