A Hard Day's Day
I sang at a funeral on Saturday. It was a beautiful service. The preacher was not a "real" preacher, but an ordained minister insurance salesperson from West Texas. He was funny. He was perfect. He was a good friend of the dear man who had passed. He told personal stories that made us all feel like we too, were best friends of Jeff. Jeff was a 53 year old beloved dad, husband, friend and gifted musician that people adored. He passed away due to complications from a stroke, but entered the hospital with either the flu or pneumonia. I remember seeing a Facebook posting saying, "Pray for Jeff, he is really sick." Yes. Done. I prayed. I always pray when I see that someone posts a plea. It only takes a second..and who knows? That might be the one tiny request that tips the scales in the favor of the sick, lost, lonely, hurt or searching. Or not. In this case, it was an "or not." He did not get better, no matter how big we prayed. Good people die, no matter how much they are loved, cherished and lifted up. We beg for more time, regret the wasted days of planning and never following through and then cry when we know we will never see them again at Gruene Hall. God's hard reminder to pay attention to the moments.
I was so tired when I got home from the service on Saturday. I sat on the couch and watched meaningless TV and drank red wine and ate good cheese. It was just the pup and me hanging out, so I did not have any responsibilities for a couple of hours. I felt as if I could not move. Except I found super powers when I needed to fill my glass more. Then back on the couch. Emotionally, I was spent. My part in the memorial service was small. I sang "Amazing Grace" while my friend Tyson played guitar. I was fine until I looked directly at Jeff's children sitting in the front row. I glanced down at the floor, regained my balance and then looked at Lois, Jeff's graceful and beautiful wife. I am singing and looking at the family and the church filled with love and I suddenly feel like I am going to fall off my heels. The faith of the front row kept me straight. I can usually hold it together pretty well for moments like this, but for some reason, this time I was on the verge of a terrible You Tube video moment. I made it through 3 verses without falling. Grace won again, I guess, because it certainly wasn't my strength that kept me singing. The front row was strong. They were surrounded by great beauty and light. The front row. I just wanted to heal them with a song. And as it turned out, they healed me.
A thousand and two things run through one's mind driving home from such a tough yet meaningful afternoon. Is your number really up? Really. I mean is it that simple? Like a huge roulette wheel in the sky? Your number is 53. You win a free trip to Heaven. What about all of the fun we had planned ? What about grandkids and travel and bills to pay and people to drink with and yards to rake? I am sure that Jeff had gigs planned way in advance. He was doing a great job of honoring YOU here on Earth. People loved to hear him sing and play. He had that beautiful smile. Then stop. It all just comes to an end. Man, that is harsh. We all can't live forever, I know that. But some kind of explanation as to why good people go too soon, would be appreciated.
I don't want to think about death to live. I want to live to live. Some people need that constant reminder that life is indeed short. I want to be like Georgia O'Keefe and create until I am 90 something. That is my request. I also want my friends and family to live long enough for us to forget each other's names. I want Luke to have great-grandchildren. I want you to live your best and biggest and longest life too. I want to sing at your grandchild's wedding. She may not want an 84 year old singing "We've Only Just Begun"..but I will audition anyway. I want to see you at Gruene Hall on January 1st next year. I want to dance to "Tulsa Time" down the aisles with you. I want to dance to a Jeff Strahan song that we almost learn. We will lift our fists to the sky and say.."You may have him now, but that voice is still in the walls here. His guitar playing still rattles the windows. And we will never stop dancing."
Let's stick around.
www.jeffstrahan.com
Tuesday, January 21 6:30 chilly morning in Cedar Park, TX
I was so tired when I got home from the service on Saturday. I sat on the couch and watched meaningless TV and drank red wine and ate good cheese. It was just the pup and me hanging out, so I did not have any responsibilities for a couple of hours. I felt as if I could not move. Except I found super powers when I needed to fill my glass more. Then back on the couch. Emotionally, I was spent. My part in the memorial service was small. I sang "Amazing Grace" while my friend Tyson played guitar. I was fine until I looked directly at Jeff's children sitting in the front row. I glanced down at the floor, regained my balance and then looked at Lois, Jeff's graceful and beautiful wife. I am singing and looking at the family and the church filled with love and I suddenly feel like I am going to fall off my heels. The faith of the front row kept me straight. I can usually hold it together pretty well for moments like this, but for some reason, this time I was on the verge of a terrible You Tube video moment. I made it through 3 verses without falling. Grace won again, I guess, because it certainly wasn't my strength that kept me singing. The front row was strong. They were surrounded by great beauty and light. The front row. I just wanted to heal them with a song. And as it turned out, they healed me.
A thousand and two things run through one's mind driving home from such a tough yet meaningful afternoon. Is your number really up? Really. I mean is it that simple? Like a huge roulette wheel in the sky? Your number is 53. You win a free trip to Heaven. What about all of the fun we had planned ? What about grandkids and travel and bills to pay and people to drink with and yards to rake? I am sure that Jeff had gigs planned way in advance. He was doing a great job of honoring YOU here on Earth. People loved to hear him sing and play. He had that beautiful smile. Then stop. It all just comes to an end. Man, that is harsh. We all can't live forever, I know that. But some kind of explanation as to why good people go too soon, would be appreciated.
I don't want to think about death to live. I want to live to live. Some people need that constant reminder that life is indeed short. I want to be like Georgia O'Keefe and create until I am 90 something. That is my request. I also want my friends and family to live long enough for us to forget each other's names. I want Luke to have great-grandchildren. I want you to live your best and biggest and longest life too. I want to sing at your grandchild's wedding. She may not want an 84 year old singing "We've Only Just Begun"..but I will audition anyway. I want to see you at Gruene Hall on January 1st next year. I want to dance to "Tulsa Time" down the aisles with you. I want to dance to a Jeff Strahan song that we almost learn. We will lift our fists to the sky and say.."You may have him now, but that voice is still in the walls here. His guitar playing still rattles the windows. And we will never stop dancing."
Let's stick around.
www.jeffstrahan.com
Tuesday, January 21 6:30 chilly morning in Cedar Park, TX
You are becoming prolific! Beautiful sentiments. I was asked to speak at my best friend's funeral. I couldn't even write anything out without losing it, let alone speak in front of a packed church. It turned out OK, I only lost it on the last sentence of 8 pages of notes, but it was difficult. My life has changed dramatically in the last 6 years, and as some people left my life others have come into it and help me carry on, and change, hopefully for the better. I count your husband, along with you and the band, as a some of those people that have brought light back into my life. Thanks for the positive words to help keep me living for now & not dreading the future.
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