Songs to Fill the Air

This past weekend was my hubby and my 11th anniversary. I feel really old saying that. Somewhere in my mind, I'm still 20 something (and closer to the 20 than the 30). But alas, that's not the case...I didn't get married when I was 10...which I know you are all grateful for. Anyway, on a more normal thought, we did get to celebrate this weekend.

Part of our celebration was an extremely painful one. But still a celebration, none the less. My uncle, who has always hugged me so tightly that I almost couldn't breathe, and smiled so widely that it almost came off his face, passed away last week. He had struggled with cancer about a year ago, that was completely removed...supposedly.

Two weeks ago, he went into the hospital having respiratory problems, and when they looked closer, they found that it wasn't all removed. It was everywhere. And you know how the rest of the story goes. He was 60, still in love with and married to his college sweetheart, father to two beautiful girls, and absolutely adoring being a grandfather to a precious little boy.

Seeing the program read, "A Celebration of Life" is never something that sounds like a fun party to go to. It's hard to even think of it as celebrating. But that's what we did. We all gathered together, hugged 'til it hurt, looked at pictures, and laughed at stories that perfectly described this big bear of a man that we all loved. We sand his favorite songs during the funeral. And we cried. A lot. And then some more.

The next day, my husband and I woke up, and did pretty normal things. We went to church together (the kids were still at his parents, so we slept in!), we came home and my hubby made me a delicious tomato and basil omelet while I did some work for an upcoming wedding, then we went and checked into a beautiful Bed and Breakfast in the area. This B & B is a historic pre-civil war house, that has been restored and updated to be the perfect get away. And, it just so happens that my parents own it. But not for long. The Inn has been on the market for a bit, and so we thoroughly enjoyed what will most likely be our last stay there for quite a while.

A couple weeks ago, when I was having coffee with a good friend of mine, she told me how usually, she and her husband, just end up doing normal things together for their anniversary, and that is what is so special. Instead of trying to plan a bunch of plans, and then force a special feeling into the plans. It was not what I really wanted to hear at the time. What I wanted was for my husband to have made big, exciting plans for our anniversary. But, what turned out to be our weekend, was wonderful. It was unexpected and everyday all at the same time. It was being with family that was in mourning. It was waking up in our beds and going to our church that we love. It was making brunch in our home. It was listening to music at the park with friends, just like many summer Sunday evenings. And staying in a beautiful Inn that our family has loved for years. And celebrating life with each other. Just like it should be.

*(This post is in honor of my Uncle Bill. We'll hear your voice come through the music, and we'll hold it near, as it were our own.)

Ripple

by Robert Hunter

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine

And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung

Would you hear my voice come through the music?

Would you hold it near, as it were your own?

It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken

Perhaps they're better left unsung

I don't know, don't really care

Let there be songs to fill the air

Ripple in still water

When there is no pebble tossed

Nor wind to blow

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty

If your cup is full may it be again

Let it be known there is a fountain

That was not made by the hands of man

There is a road, no simple highway

Between the dawn and the dark of night

And if you go, no one may follow

That path is for your steps alone

Ripple in still water

When there is no pebble tossed

Nor wind to blow

You who choose to lead must follow

But if you fall, you fall alone

If you should stand, then who's to guide you?

If I knew the way, I would take you home