The Day the Music Died

DH started playing the guitar when he was about nine years old, and probably started singing about the same time. His parents both sang, and his mother played the piano. For several years, DH played professionally in a band--playing in various bars and clubs on the weekends, while keeping up a full-time job during the week. He gave up the band when his first son was born, but he never gave up the music.

He had a stroke in 1993, and that affected his fine motor skills, which meant that he could no longer play the guitar. His brain could remember how to make the chords, but his fingers couldn't get into the right positions on the neck of the guitar, but he never gave up the music. When we met, he was attending his childhood church and singing with his brother and another friend. I had kept a prayer journal for several years, and when I described my requirements for a husband, a love of music was near the top of the list.

After our marriage, DH began attending my church, and we had a large adult choir. He sang baritone, with great enjoyment and enthusiasm. We used to do a large theatrical-type production every year at Easter, and DH was onstage for each of those performances from 1999 until 2004.

Our house was always full of music. He sang from the time he got up in the morning until he went to bed at night. I could tell when he didn't feel well because he didn't sing. My singing voice was NOTHING to compare with his, and I took a lot of teasing from him because I wanted to sing, too. He made up words to songs; he said he'd gotten in the habit of doing that when singing in bars because the patrons were too drunk to know if the words were correct. His dad had once said that DH had a better voice than his brother, but that DH sang in bars and brother sang in church. That all changed when DH changed, and his music became part of his testimony and his witness.

When I knew that DH was going to leave us, I came home for a couple of hours. I charged up my cell phone, changed clothes, and charged up my MP-3 player. I had loaded it with a lot of songs from the groups Acapella and Glad, and I wanted to have that music with me while I sat with DH in the intensive care unit. When I got back to the hospital, I took my place again with DH and put on my music. I talked to him and prayed, and the last song I listened to was "We Will Glorify the Lamb" by Acapella. His brother came back in to be with me as DH left, and I know that DH's first words in heaven were songs. His left hand is working perfectly again, and he's playing the guitar again.

The music died in our house, but it will come back. I'm not sure I can ever sing out loud again without DH to make fun of my voice, but my heart will always sing. I'll sing because I had the opportunity to be married to DH, who was an answer to my prayers, and I'll sing because I have the assurance that I'll sing with him in heaven some day.

I miss him...it's too quiet here. He filled up a room when he came in, and he filled up my heart when he came in.