The Last Song(135)
“I finished your song,” she said. “Our last song. And I want to play it for you.”
36
Steve
Life, he realized, was much like a song.
In the beginning there is mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it’s in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile.
For the first time in months, he felt no pain at all; for the first time in years, he knew his questions had answers. As he listened to the song that Ronnie had finished, the song that Ronnie had perfected, he closed his eyes in the knowledge that his search for God’s presence had been fulfilled.
He finally understood that God’s presence was everywhere, at all times, and was experienced by everyone at one time or another. It had been with him in the workshop as he’d labored over the window with Jonah; it had been present in the weeks he’d spent with Ronnie. It was present here and now as his daughter played their song, the last song they would ever share. In retrospect, he wondered how he could have missed something so incredibly obvious.
God, he suddenly understood, was love in its purest form, and in these last months with his children, he had felt His touch as surely as he had heard the music spilling from Ronnie’s hands.
37
Ronnie
Her dad died less than a week later, in his sleep, with Ronnie on the floor next to him. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to speak of the details. She knew her mom was waiting for her to finish; in the three hours she’d been talking, her mom had remained silent, much the way her dad always had. But the moments in which she watched her father draw his last breaths felt intensely private to her, and she knew she would never speak of them to anyone. Being at his side as he left this world was a gift that he had given her, and only her, and she would never forget how solemn and intimate it had felt.
Instead, she stared out at the freezing December rain and spoke of her last recital, the most important recital of her life.
“I played for him as long as I could, Mom. And I tried so hard to make it beautiful for him, because I knew how much it meant to him. But he was just so weak,” she whispered. “At the end, I’m not sure he could even hear me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering idly if she had any tears left to shed. There had been so many tears already.
Her mom opened her arms and beckoned to her. Her own tears shone bright in her eyes.
“I know he heard you, sweetheart. And I know it was beautiful.”
Ronnie gave herself over to her mother’s embrace, resting her head on her chest as she used to do when she was a child.
“Never forget how happy you and Jonah made him,” her mother murmured, stroking her hair.
“He made me happy, too,” she mused. “I learned so much from him. I just wish I had thought to tell him. That, and a million other things.” She shut her eyes. “But now it’s too late.”
“He knew,” her mom assured her. “He always knew.”
The funeral was a simple affair, held in the church that had recently been reopened. Her dad had asked to be cremated, and his wishes had been honored.
Pastor Harris gave the eulogy. It was short but brimming with authentic grief and love. He had loved her father like a son, and despite herself, Ronnie cried along with Jonah. She slipped her arm around him as he sobbed the bewildered cries of a child, and she tried not to think about how he would remember this loss, so early in life.
Only a handful of people had come to the service. She’d spotted Galadriel and Officer Pete as she’d walked in and had heard the church door open once or twice after she’d taken her seat, but other than that, the church was empty. She ached at the thought that so few people knew how special her dad had been or how much he’d meant to her.
After the service, she continued to sit in the pew with Jonah while Brian and her mom went outside to talk to Pastor Harris. The four of them were flying back to New York in just a few hours, and she knew she didn’t have much time.
Even so, she didn’t want to leave. The rain, pouring down all morning, had stopped, and the sky was beginning to clear. She had been praying for that, and she found herself staring at her father’s stained-glass window, willing the clouds to part.
And when they did, it was just as her father had described it. The sun flooded through the glass, splitting into hundreds of jewel-like prisms of glorious, richly colored light. The piano stood in a waterfall of brilliant color, and for a moment Ronnie pictured her father sitting at its keys, his face upturned to the light. It didn’t last long, but she squeezed Jonah’s hand in silent awe. Despite the weight of her grief, she smiled, knowing that Jonah was thinking the same thing.