To be fair though, they do warn us about possible side effects. They clearly state that some side effects have been reported. Those side effects include unexplained muscle pain or weakness, diarrhea, joint pains, and tiredness. And, that's what they DO tell you.

I woke up this morning with a tune in my head and it won’t go away. Every step I take every move I make, it’s there – skipping merrily through parks and playgrounds of my brain. Usually I can only stop the music in my head by playing the tune over and over until I’ve overdosed on it.

Have you ever had a tune stuck in your head that won’t go away? How can I explain it?

Music is my love and my life; it is the heart of my soul. It is a manifestation of where I’ve come from, of where I am at any given moment in time.

Music is what I live for, it is an experience. Music is a growth; it’s energizing, exciting, expressive and, dramatic. Good music makes my insides flutter with excitement. My head moves up down and sideways rhythmically, shoulders sway back and forth to the tune. My feet go tap, tap, tap, to the beat with a mind-of-their-own. Soon I’m up moving twirling swirling and dancing around the room like a child on Christmas morning.

Music is an expression that all can embrace, interpret, and feel. It is an expression that will never die and will constantly be created and twisted into enjoyable melodic prose.

Music is like an antidote, it helps reduce stress, it is what I can depend on when many things in life are not trustworthy.

Music is my sanity and my passion; a way to escape the physical world and express ideas and emotions. Music is a link to my dreams which helps me to relax, visualize and create.

Music is love, devotion, precise, discipline, and adoration and it brings me closer to God.

The past week or so I've had to work really hard to overcome some sad feelings. When they first started I'd shake the feeling and move on. Yesterday it dawned on me, September 3rd is the day my daddy died so it took a while longer to get-myself-together. Today wasn't so bad as I spent time riding with Jordyn running errands. Back at home I realized what my problem was...thoughts of Daddy.

Last year I posted the following. I am re-posting it in its entirety -- just because.
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"It was the third of September. That day I'll always remember, yes I will. 'Cause that was the day that my daddy died."

"That is as far as the similarities of Daddy and the lyrics of the song go. Beyond that, nothing else in the song applies. The music is - the hook.

September 3, 1988 was the day my daddy died. The phone rang about 9 p.m. and a family friend informed me that Daddy was "gone". Not understanding or not wanting to understand, I question, "Gone? Gone where?"

She answers, "Your mom asked me to call and tell you that your daddy passed away. He's gone."

Suddenly a dark cloud covers me like a blanket. I can't cry like I want to. My nine year old is right here, I have to keep it all together for him. Hubby hovers characteristically close, waiting for my reaction. He asks if I'm okay or if I want to go outside with him.

"I'm okay," I reassure him.

The older two kids are at a football game. Jordyn is a cheerleader, oldest son is on the team. I want to go home - now -but, I have to wait for the kids to get here. I excuse myself with "I need to go and pack so everything will be ready."

In the privacy of the bedroom my tears flow unchecked, but only momentarily, the baby is at the door wanting in. I quickly dry my tears shake myself together and get on with the business of packing.

With a million and one thoughts crowding my numb brain, I silently occupy my self and wait. Finally, the older kids are home, hubby has the car packed and I gather them around to tell them about Papa. They react as expected, tearfully, grief-stricken and full of questions.

Among explanations and reassurances I head them toward the car for the long painful ride home. All is quiet in the backseat after a few miles and I am thankful for the darkness that conceals the anguish that now consumes me.

The journey through the thick East Texas woods is quiet, the silence broken only occasionally by a question from hubby about how I am doing. We arrive at Mama's about 2 or 2:30 a.m. Rousing the kids from their sleep we gather our luggage and start for the front door, for the beginning of a life without Daddy. At the steps I stifle the threatening tears, catch my breath, grit my teeth and prepare to go inside.

I have no idea what lies ahead or what it is like to lose someone this close. I do know that a special light has gone out, a era has come and gone. And with it, the love of my life - my daddy.* * * * * * * * * *
Today, September 3, 2009 I am left with Daddy's . . ."Legacy of Love".