The meaning of “grit” is courage and resolve, that is, strength of character. And in today’s Generation Grit series is Luo Tianze, 31, a music teacher, who lost both his parents during the pandemic.
His struggles touched me deeply because Tianze confronted many crossroads in his life, especially during Covid, but he never lost sight of the narrow path to growth and maturity. His story today is reported by Malavika Menon.
It was a seven year ordeal for Tianze from the time his mother, Mdm Chia, in 2013, found out she has a rare condition called Neuromyelitis Opportunity Optica (“NMO”) to her passing in May this year.
NMO is a ”central nervous system disorder that primarily affects the eye nerve and spinal cord.”
In 2016, Mdm Chia was also “diagnosed with second-stage lymphoma, a cancer that attacks infection-fighting white blood cells.” She was 60 years old then.
While caring for his mother, Tianze’s father (Mr Low) was also diagnosed with fourth-stage pancreatic cancer in January this year. He passed away in September. Mr Low was 68 when he died with three of his children by his bedside.
Tianze said: “I remember watching him sitting in his hospital bed during Chinese New Year and I knew he was scared; he was terrified about the future. I knew I had to stay mature, and keep pushing because becoming overly emotional was not going to solve anything.”
You must know that Tianze is an award winning musician. Struggling financially, his two siblings helped him to realise his ultimate goal of gaining admission into the Royal College of Music (RCM)-Nafa degree programme as well as winning the San San Music Merit Award and Higher Education Bursary, which covers half a year’s tuition.
In fact, one month after his mother passed away, Tianze clinched the RCM Musical Excellence Award. The award was given away annually for “an exceptional student in the programme based on academic performance and financial needs.”
Tianze recalled this: “I was numb. I remember feeling surprised that I had received the award, and sharing the news with my siblings. But when I saw my mother’s empty bed every morning, I knew that the award did not make up for her absence.”
He added: “The grief that comes from a loss like this is hard to describe. My parents were always around to greet me when I returned home after a long day of classes or a performance. They started this journey with me but I am finishing it on my own.”
Tianze misses his parents deeply, and the memory of their constant presence and love before their passing gave him hope and strength to face his days without them. He said he is “holding fast to his dream of teaching and helping others discover music as he did in school.”
Lesson? Just one.
Indeed, some journey are hard to describe. It comes to an end before the map of that life runs out of road.
At that point, a trial becomes a crossroad, and you are confronted with choices you never knew you will ever have to make (or want to make or face it). And everyone of those choices forces you to take a step in one direction, towards hope or one empty of it.
Tianze nevertheless took his, that is, one day at a time, since that day he sent his parents off. But it was no less a life-awakening journey that has transformed his life’s outlook.
He said: “I learnt compassion and above all patience during this period. I know I will be able to apply this as an instructor in a classroom.”
Let me end with these heartfelt reflection by Tianze. He said: “In the past, when I played music, a sad song was simply sad and a happy song was just happy.”
“But now I understand the nuances. I can relate to the composer’s melodies or the change in notes. The loss of a loved one helps me relate to the songs beyond a generic negative or positive feeling, and it brought maturity to my music.”
What a reflection! I have learned from Tianze that you can live life generically or live it beyond the feelings, to experience the empowering nuances that an overcoming life has to offer.
Life like music can be received with a passing appreciation of its catchy or wistful tunes to make you happy or sad. They are but momentary. But they can also be received with such depth that even in sadness, you still find hope, community and joy. And such resilience and maturity are for life.
For the magic of a melody that ministers to a soul with such nuanced depth is that even in happiness, you are never led to a place of self-conceit and self-delusion. Your reality in life and music is anchored on much firmer foundation, where you would go beyond generic understanding to one that brings out the best in you, that is, to a safe and nurturing place where virtues like wellspring pours forth to fill and heal your broken soul.
Drawing a scriptural parallel here, you can listen to Amazing Grace and be amazed by a life sacrificed, or listen to the same melody and be amazed by how your life is transformed by a life sacrificed. That is the defining difference between a generic faith and a Christ-centric one.
So, going back to Tianze, I guess that is why he said this when he was caring for his mum: -
“I would stay with her till about 9pm and then go back to school to rehearse alone. My music healed me and kept me distracted from pondering about the next day. It was cathartic.”
Indeed, the power of music in our life depends on how we choose to receive it. Music can titillate the flesh for momentary pleasure, or it can minister to our soul to heal it for good. One is about a buoyancy that is unstable and unpredictable, and the other is about an anchorage that is undaunted and unshakable.
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