“Can I go on my way without you?”
The first line and question in Voyage to Atlantis by The Isley Brothers.
This is one of many songs my dad and I loved to listen to on repeat on any car ride together, whether driving four hours to his hometown of Richmond, Indiana, or just ten minutes as he dropped me off at the local train station cause I wanted to be a City Girl! (But home by 9pm, of course)
A month before he was hospitalized, he emailed me a Spotify playlist that he created. The playlist encompasses one of his favorites, a love song in French. I have since declared this as my wedding song, which he gifted to me without even knowing — or perhaps he did.
Music has always been our way of bonding and bringing us solace. My dad had my siblings and me listening to the oldies of the oldies. He would remix songs and sing us lullabies from songs his parents once grooved to in the 1940s. I’d like to think I get my supreme musical taste from the three of them.
When he experienced PTSD flare-ups, my first instinct, after rolling my eyes in misunderstanding, was to play one of his favorite oldies on the loudspeakers that sang throughout our house or, when distance separated us, email him with a link + remind him, “I love this song because of you. Thanks for putting me on!” He immediately would sing along, tap, and sway with the beat. Music helped him regulate his anxious thoughts and offered a different remembrance than a time of war. “Oh yeah, I remember this! Northside Richmond Blues!” or “This was the jam when your mom and I were at Howard!”
I had no idea, at the time, that I was offering my dad a form of music therapy.
Listening to Voyage to Atlantis after his death, I realized my dad playing it repeatedly while cleaning, driving, doing work, hosting friends, etc., was also a gift. I often wonder if he knew the music would carry and embrace long after he was gone.
Voyage to Atlantis was released on my sister’s birthday in 1977. It’s about a relationship going through a transformation resulting in a solo journey of healing and growth.
Since this record was on repeat while growing up, it is also a loving reminder for me to return and nurture my inner child by diving right into discovery.
“If I go on my way without you, where would I go?”
It’s slowly starting to make sense.
Who knew returning to myself would feel as mythical and complex as discovering Atlantis.
We here though.
“…Set my spirit free.”
And as the song promised, and as my dad has done —especially through the music,
“I’ll always come back to you…”
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