Meredith’s Musings: The Final Tour

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

In early April, I saw an advertisement for The Judds: The Final Tour. A nostalgic pain hit my chest. My mom had, and still has, an old-school boombox in the entryway to the living room. At Christmastime, Elvis Presley and Brenda Lee bellowed from the speakers. And periodically, the Judds’ CD would play. I always liked the tone of the music. I liked the idea of a mother/daughter duo, a powerful all-female chart-topping team who personified the aesthetic of country music and challenged it just the same. Wynonna is still considered a rebel with a powerful, soul-filled voice. Naomi Judd was always the more palatable of the twosome, pretty and supportive. But still, you could always sense a tension between the two of them, a reverberating dynamic that showcased love and the inevitable discord that plagues mother/daughter relationships. They seemed real to me, in a way that musicians rarely do.

Upon spotting the ad, I immediately thought about Mother’s Day and how I’d love to take my mom. She doesn’t attend concerts on her own, but I knew she would enjoy this one. I also thought attending a mother/daughter concert with my mother felt kismet – the opportunity one doesn’t pass up. I called my friend to see if she and her mother might want to come with us. This friend and I had tried taking our mothers to see Cher years before, another musician my mom loves. Cher canceled the last few dates of the tour due to a throat issue, and we never got to go. I purchased the tickets, bought an extra for my mother-in-law since the concert was in Dallas where she lives, and waited. Anxiously, I couldn’t wait to give Mom the tickets. She would be expecting a plant or perhaps a homemade card from my girls. I wrote out a long note, using iterations of the Judds’ song titles in the narration. Mom and Dad were coming over on Mother’s Day, and I couldn’t wait for her to open the card and see the tickets.

A week before Mother’s Day on April 30, 2022, my phone buzzed. The headline read: Naomi Judd dead at 76. I almost dropped my phone. In the following days, news trickled about Naomi suffering depression, a battle she had waged for some time. I had no idea. I adored an image and gave little thought to the woman behind the persona, the mother on country music’s biggest stage. And selfishly, I thought about the concert. I thought about how this tragedy affected me.

In the following weeks, I saw interviews with Wynonna and Ashley Judd, details about the incident, analysis of long-term family dynamics, the cluster of an evolving news story that refuses to let people grieve in peace. Wynonna announced that the tour would continue, with special guests joining her onstage. She would proceed with the tour to honor her mother. She claimed its what the fans wanted and what she believed her mother would want too. It was Wynonna’s choice to make, and I respect and trust her perspective.

In a few weeks, my mother and I will make that trip to Dallas along with my friend and her mother. We will enter that stadium with other Judds’ fans and embark on an emotional few hours. I doubt few of us have any idea what to expect. Nevertheless, we will stand, cheer, and cry our way through the Judds’ repertoire. We won’t be the only mother/daughter pairs in that audience. We will share space with mothers who have lost daughters and daughters who have buried mothers. And the star on stage will attempt to fill that space without her co-star, in life and in music. She will most likely put on a brave face. Perhaps she will melt down. I trust Wynonna to tell the truth, like I instinctively did so many years ago. This year, I’m thankful to share this time with my mother, in the presence of a best friend and her mother, alongside Husband’s mother. Here’s to the mothers, those who stand beside and behind us, those whose legacies spur our spirits, and those gone, yet not forgotten.