A short memorial piece for my mother who passed away unexpectedly 9 days ago.

My father died when I was four years old and before she met my stepfather there were a few years in the mid and late 1980s that it was mostly just me and my Mom.

This piece commemorates those years as well as the entirety of her life. I am not much of a musician, it is the elements within that represent her to me.

Her love of music and theater is represented by the initial notes of a grand piano meant to sound as if it were a buildup to a song in a musical.

The playful clarinet is meant to represent her experience of the world. She played clarinet as a girl and had one that was passed down to her that she cherished for as long as I can remember.

The piano moves toward a more "vintage" keyboard feel meant to call to mind an 80s television score. I spent a lot of time falling asleep to late night television on the nights I refused to sleep in my bedroom.

The choir is representative of her faith and her love of singing whether it was in the car or at church.

The underlying ambience changes to symbolize different phases of her life, from childhood, wife and motherhood, becoming widowed, remarrying and becoming a mother again and finally to becoming a grandmother and the peaceful tranquility that will now hold her for eternity.

The project title describes a ring that she used to wear when I was young.

The picture is of a covered bridge near my childhood home and the local name of a nearby road that I would always take to get there.

After my father died I never wanted to leave my mother's side, fearful that she would also disappear. At church on Sundays I refused to go to the playroom during services and instead chose to sit right next to her. She would draw me pictures to keep me busy or we'd play "dots and squares" on blank spots on the church bulletin. Or sometimes she just held my hand and I'd stare at and play with her rings...especially the gold ring with a claw set amethyst that I'd spin around her finger.

I forgot all about that ring and those Sundays until last week when I went with my family to see her at the hospital where she had passed just a couple of hours before our arrival.

I stayed behind to talk to her as everyone else moved into the hallway and as I held her hand the long faded memory of that ring flashed into my mind.

I didn't want to leave her side any more that day than I did on those Sundays 30 years ago.

I create these albums and soundscapes as ritual. I am not musically inclined. All works exists only because I am compelled to create them.

This one was composed on a Sunday for my Mom.