It Makes it a Little Easier to Say Goodbye

It's not a surprise to me that last week's reading and discussion on tragedy has stuck with me. When I sat down to write a post, I didn't have anything to write - maybe it was because I was still processing everything that we'd just watched, or maybe it was because I didn't have anything to say that other people hadn't already said. It wasn't until this past weekend when this idea of tragedy and healing coexisting really hit home with me and I had something to write about.

In high school, I was apart of a musical group in our small community of Saline, Michigan. The group, the Saline Fiddlers, has been around for twenty years and about two-hundred students have passed through it. For seven of those years, a Mr. Douglas Rhine graced the group with his efforts and time, as both a parent of a student in it and as a staff member. He was always one to have a smile on his face, be an encouragement to those around him, and all in all a fun person! I was lucky enough to get to know him during my first year in the group before he moved to Chicago with his wife. Three years ago, though, he was diagnosed with gastrointestinal cancer. This past week he passed away. On Saturday, I found myself at his memorial service surrounded by people I didn't know and some that I did, but what we all had in common was that Mr. Rhine had touched all of our hearts in different ways at different points along his sixty-one years of life. We were told in his final days, he was happy and most importantly, he was ready (if not anxiously awaiting) to be with God.

After the service was over, all the Fiddler alumni present got out our instruments and in honor of Mr. Rhine, we had what we like to call a jam session. Circled up, there were about fifteen alumni from different years of the group. It wasn't important that we didn't all know each other, because we all knew the music. For about an hour and a half, we stood around in a circle shouting out different songs and laughing and having fun. For a moment, I forgot that I was at a funeral. Even Mr. Rhine's son, a former Fiddler, was smiling.

I'd like to think that that jam session was healing for all of us, and all the people who were listening. I know this sounds cliche, but it's true: even in the face of tragedy, there was light, and we all, from different walks of life, came together to support each other through our common love for music and Mr. Rhine.