The Music Of Sutch

It's sad that this very first post should be about a loss. But in a way, I guess it's a happy one. We know you're listening, you always were.

Anyways, after a few people asked me for copies of the poem I read at the memorial, or rather "Celebration of Life", I figured I'd post it here to make life easier. YAY for interent!

The Music Of Sutch

I tell you now,
What I have learned,
That immortality is not locked up,
In iron or gold,
Silver or copper,
Magic or witchcraft.

I tell you now,
How I know.

As I walk, I want to cry.
But I do not.
Something tells me it is not time.

But the Heavens hear my silent plea,
And cry for me.

So the rain falls,
And I look to the skies,
The wind whistles a sad lament,
The trees dance.

Play on, Music Man,
Thinks I,
Play me the music of the earth.

And I remember.

I remember spring days long past,
I remember hearing you play,
Hearing you sing.
I can still hear the old out of tune piano.
The wind still whispers.

With it comes the night,
And cools the thoughts,
To sombre things.

And as I watch those shooting stars,
I think,
Every star must fall,
If it is to rise,
Immortal with the sunrise.

Play, Music Man,
Thinks I,
Play me the Symphony of Sunrise.

I tell you now,
What I know,
That immortality is not locked up,
In fame or fortune,
For that comes only after stars tumble,
And rise with the sun.

I tell you now,
The secret I know,
That immortality is found,
In love and word and action,
For to be immortal,
You must be remembered.
That is it, and nothing more.

Just doing great things,
No matter how simple,
No matter how small,
And touching lives,
By being you.

We will remember,
And make you immortal,
You, Mr. Music Man.

Now stand at the orchestra of the earth,
And play, Music Man,
Play on.
Play us the music of our memories.

So there it is. Hope you enjoyed it. :)
If you do the whole deviantART thing, the title links you to where it is posted.
You can also find it on Mibba and Fictionpress under the username Dreamweaver38.

While on that note, I figured I'd post something I wrote that Monday we found out.

Last year, part way through the second semester, our music teacher left. His reason for leaving was illness, but he'd had MIA bouts like this before, and we all thought he'd be back in September. He wasn't.
Our new music teacher is awesome (we're actually learning something now...), but it still wasn't the same. There was just something about him. He was crazy and eccentric. And in my timid first year of grade nine, he inspired me to take the masks off and be me. Showed me that it actually is possible to be crazy and rational at the same time.
There are hundreds of other memories I have of him, things like the muffin on my b-day, telling the trumpets they sounded like whiney balloons, reading the Revelation of the Bible instead of playing, or playing the piano so crazily we thought he'd break it while belting out a rendition of Great Balls of Fire and us all struggling to keep up.
We all waited patiently this last semester, e-mailing him, asking him to come in for a visit when he had a good day. We never saw him again.We were told on Monday that he had died on the weekend. It came as a huge shock to all of us. To make life even better, we had Jazz Band practice that afternoon. At least we were together. And we still played. We played for him. Maybe the solos I played that day were the best yet.
I dunno why I'm telling you this. It's not like you'd care. But maybe I'm writing it cuz I have no idea what else to do. Maybe I'm trying to show you how he was an inspiration to all of us at my school, or at least my side of it.
I really dunno.
And I don't understand how I'm feeling. I feel like I should be doing something. Something for him. I offered to help with the memorial service for him we're having at the school, but I don't know what I can do. I can't sing anything, what I really want to do is read something I've written.
But I can't find the words. I don't know how to write it. I don't know how to describe who he was to me. We haven't seen him in over a year now. And we never will again. All we have are memories.
And more than any of the other people I've written for, he really deserves to be immortalized in verse.I'm not going to the funeral or anything. 1. I don't have a ride, and 2. I don't think I could. Besides, I'd be my first funeral ever and they make me really edgy to even think about. I'd rather not be with people. I'd rather keep to myself and just remember.
I feel like I want to cry. I need to cry. I haven't yet. Something keeps telling me it's not time yet. I wish I knew when it was time to cry.
I almost did this morning walking to school. It was really windy and the birds weren't singing for once. But the wind made such music and the trees were dancing. And every time I felt a little extra down, the wind would kick up again. I'm probably crazy, and it's probably just the wind. But I couldn't help but thinking, you're free now. The earth is your orchestra. Play for us.
I dunno why. I guess I really dunno anything. More than anything I guess I feel lost. Like I don't understand.
And I'm afraid to share. People think I'm crazy enough as it is. Sorry for ranting to you. I guess I just needed to scream it before I could let it out in formal writing.
If you've actually made it this far, I thank you. Your time was spent learning about a wonderful man that changed the little corner of his world.

One band, ONE SOUND! Play on, Music Man.