Lullabies for the Dying

Our lullaby is also a funeral dirge. In our community, the end is also a new beginning. We lull our dead to sleep, cradle them as they pass away. Death is merely a journey.
— The Sleeping Nymph, Ilaria Tuti
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Many years ago when my babies were fussy, I would hold them tight and sing Elvis Presley’s song, “Are you Lonesome Tonight.” I would sing the same words over and over again in a soft, crooning voice. Maybe not a typical lullaby, but it would calm them, and lull them back to sleep. It was a song I continued to sing to them as they grew, even as young teenagers, when I would cradle them in my arms while they cried over one of the many challenges that only teenage girls suffer. I expect I will sing these same words one day to grandchildren.

Last month, I read the second book in the Superintendent Teresa Battaglia series, written by Ilaria Tuti. Battaglia is an expert criminal profiler with four decades of experience on the Italian police force. Her ability to remember is slowly slipping away, as are her coping mechanisms. The books are dark, and they are compelling.

Re-introduced to Battaglia in The Sleeping Nymph, I was quickly drawn into the cold case she is investigating. DNA analysis has revealed that a painting from the final days of World War II contains matter from a human heart. Battaglia traces the evidence to Val Resia, one of the most isolated, untouched regions in Italy.

The Resia Valley in northern Italy is real, and Tuti weaves fact, history, and fiction into a captivating story. The inhabitants of Resia, with Slavic origins dating back to the 7th-century, have preserved not only their ancient dialect but also ancient traditions. They have a rich oral tradition of folk songs, nursery rhymes, and legends. They are also known for their lullabies for the dying.

“A female voice rose in song, voicing a lament whose power silenced every other human sound. She was singing a song as old as the history of her people. It was an ancient melody that had long since vanished and yet remained alive. It was the lullaby for the dead.” - Ilaria Tuti

As often happens when I come across new things that intrigue me, I headed off on a Google search to learn more about folk lullabies and their connection to dying.

These folk lullabies have their origin in a genre of lullaby referenced in Russian folklore, the death lullaby. There are various theories about these lullabies. Some suggest that in times of starvation, illegitimacy, and unwanted births, these lullabies were a way to influence the spiritual world to determine the child’s fate. Another theory maintains that mothers sang these lullabies to fight for their children’s lives, deceiving the evil spirits who harm babies. There are also theories that believe these lullabies were sung by mothers to help guide their dying babies to the next world.

Lullabies have a peaceful, hypnotic quality. Studies have shown that lullabies can slow heart rates and reduce stress. Katerina Juvancic, a Slovenian singer, songwriter, and anthropologist, says people not only sing lullabies to babies, but also to pets, teenagers, the elderly, people dying, as well as to themselves. The calming qualities of lullabies are just as helpful for the singer. It has also been theorized that one function of the lullaby is to help ease worries and concerns. A study of nearly 400 new mothers in England found that daily singing to babies was associated with fewer symptoms of postpartum depression and higher levels of well-being, self-esteem, and mother-infant bonding.

Ella von-Schultz Adaiewsky, a late 19th-century Russian-German composer theorized that there are soothing, sedative properties encoded in the rhythm of folk lullabies. She describes a Mingrelian lullaby – a traditional lullaby from a region on the shores of the Black Sea, where the melody is accompanied by a beat tapped out with the foot – very similar to the lullabies played in Val Resia. I could certainly feel a beat while reading The Sleeping Nymph, almost a soft heartbeat emanating from the painting central to the story.

Many folk lullabies resemble a lament, mournful and dark. Combined with lament, lullabies can have ‘restorative resounding’ qualities for hospice patients and their families. End of life studies show these lullabies can soothe people through the life-death transition much as the awake-sleep transition. Music therapists call these tunes lullaments and say they sustain the spirit and provide support.

Lullabies can be soothing for all seniors, not just those at the end of their lives. Lullabies can reduce agitation and anxiety during periods of sundowning. Playing lullabies just before sleep has been found to improve sleep among the elderly. Music also taps into our autobiographical memory and the lullabies we sang to our children can evoke comforting memories.

While doing my research, I came across Lullabies for Seniors, a book recently published by Geoff Butler, an artist from Newfoundland, currently living in Nova Scotia. In this book, there are paintings of seniors at various stages of napping being comforted by lullabies. The lyrics of the lullabies relate to the seniors’ walks in life, providing a perfect conclusion to this blog post.

Why do seniors need lullabies?
Would not their age dictate otherwise?
They’re rarely in cradles or on mothers’ laps
like wiggly babies being primed for a nap
with, first, the telling of fairy tales 
and then sweet singing like a nightingale.

Oh, to sleep like a baby, with nothing to fear
when in the arms of someone who cares!

Now seniors have joints that creak and ache,
and gnawing worries that keep them awake,
but really that’s just a part reason why 
they’d like the lulling of rock-a-byes.     
It’s more seeking comfort in the fading light 
when saying last words and setting things right, 
about to enter their eternal home,
not facing the darkest sleep alone.