KATHERINE’S STORY
play together. I do feel a bit frustrated that I can’t accompany her as well as I used to, but I still love it. From the little girl who told me once she wanted to be the ‘best flute player in the whole world’ she’s achieved so much, through hard work and determination. However, I’m most proud of the genuine, down-to-earth woman and mother Katherine has grown up to be. Who she is gives me as much joy as what she is. teaching me to play the piano when I was five, but my inner diva must have emerged and I demanded ‘real’ lessons. On reflection, I think it was healthy for our relationship that she could support, but not have to instruct me. A year later, I saw a local girl playing the flute and was utterly captivated. Mum agreed I could take it up once I’d passed my Grade 1 piano exam.
It’s ironic that our shared love of music is both a huge part of the bond between Mum and me, and has also been what’s separated us for long periods of time. By 14, I knew I wanted to be a professional musician. I enrolled at a specialist music boarding school and at 18 I won a scholarship to the Juilliard School in New York.
It’s only now, as a mother myself, I realise how selfless it was of Mum to encourage me to leave home and move so far away at such a young age, especially as I’m an only child.
She knew how badly I wanted to make music my career – and she let me go. Her visits during my three years in New York were special times, and I always felt her gentle pride that I was there, pursuing my dream.
When I phoned Mum to tell her I’d been appointed principal flute of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, aged just 21, she was overjoyed for me. Seven years later, in 2010, we shared a very different phone call when she broke the devastating news that she had Parkinson’s disease. The realisation she wasn’t invincible hit me with such force. Before that day I’d never worried about Mum – there was never any reason to. In an instant that changed for ever. I also knew, because of the level of commitment my job demands, as well as living hundreds of miles away, that I wasn’t going to be able to support her as much as I would want. I’d always had the luxury of being totally single-minded about my work. For the first time I felt painfully torn between my career and my role as a daughter.
When Mum stopped playing the piano after her diagnosis, it was heartbreaking. Her music is such an intrinsic part of her identity. I knew it must feel like a piece of her was missing and I feared for the effect on her mental health. Slowly she found her way back to it, though. Underneath her gentle exterior there is a gritty determination and she refused to give in to the disease.
Since having my son Torben, I’m always asked whether I’d like him to become a musician, too. I take the same approach Mum did. If he wants to, I’ll be there for him. If he doesn’t, that’s fine with me, too. I’ve never felt any weight of expectation from Mum on my shoulders, only her unwavering support and quiet but deep pride at everything I’ve achieved. If I can emulate those maternal qualities, I’ll be happy.
Daphne’s book Music as Medicine, Particularly in Parkinson’s is published by Clink Street Publishing, €10.99. Katherine’s most recent releases, Silver Bow on Linn Records and
Silver Voice on Chandos Records, are available from amazon.ie