A Final Smile: The Power of Song at Life's Threshold
On a warm morning in the suburban calm of Ballina, northern New South Wales, 92-year-old Joy Hurnall rests in a recliner in her lounge. Wrapped in a pale blue dressing gown and a woollen shawl made by her daughter, she is surrounded by family and the gentle voices of three women from the local Threshold Choir. Having just returned from a palliative care unit, Joy is home, and the room is filled with a profound, quiet peace as the singing begins.
The Global Movement of Comfort
This scene of solace is part of a worldwide phenomenon. The Threshold Choir was founded in California 25 years ago by Kate Munger, who began singing to a friend dying of HIV/Aids. She discovered the act comforted her, which in turn comforted him. From this humble beginning, a global network has grown. There are now 185 Threshold Choirs worldwide, with six established in Australia, including chapters in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Ballina. A further 29 chapters are currently forming across the globe.
The Ballina chapter began in 2020 after its co-director, Jane Eliott, experienced a 'lightbulb moment' at a conference. The choir, which now has over 20 members, holds weekly rehearsals in a local church. Its musical director, Cathy Ridd, is a priest, but the choir and its extensive library of over 500 songs are deliberately non-religious to be as inclusive as possible.
The Protocol of Peaceful Song
The service operates with careful intention. Only three or four singers visit each client to remain unobtrusive and allow for gentle, three-part harmony. They become 'bedside ready' only when they can confidently hold their parts. The singers follow strict protocols: they wear block colours, turn off their phones, and bring folding stools to sit at eye level with the person they are singing to.
For about 20 minutes, they perform a selection of soothing, lullaby-like songs such as 'You Are Not Alone' and 'Love Transcends'. A lead singer uses subtle hand signals to guide the performance, always attuned to the needs of the client and their family. The songs are intentionally repetitive and meditative, designed to provide comfort and release.
Dr Ann Staughton, a local GP and choir member, describes the experience as 'an extreme privilege'. She notes that while singing in hospitals can be chaotic, the choir works to create a 'bubble of peace'. The impact is often most visible on family members, who, carrying immense stress, find the music offers a moment of emotional release.
The service is not exclusively for those actively dying. Cathy Ridd explains it can bring immense comfort to anybody suffering in body, mind, or spirit, including their carers. The choir sings in various settings—homes, hospitals, aged care facilities, and even funerals.
The profound effect of this work was captured for the family of Heather Wood. Her daughter, Gabrielle, was initially hesitant but later described the choir's visit two days before her mother's death as 'one of the most beautiful, and most painful, moments of my life'. She recalls, 'It was the last time Mum smiled at me.' In those final moments, the singing slowed time, creating a lasting, gracious memory for a family with none left to spare.
