Authors: Brian MacLearn
Allison, Matt, and Dani where going nuts, clapping and whistling for me, Grandma was wiping
at
her tears, and Aunt Marcie started yelling, “Encore…Encore,” until the phrase was picked up by others and started making its way throughout the crowd. In seconds, everyone was yelling at the top of their lungs, until it became a vibrant chant. Tina came over to me and gave me a big hug. She kissed me on the cheek and then wiped the kiss mark off with her thumb. I don’t think there had ever been a day that had made me more happy than today. I could see Matt mouth, “Man, Way to go!”
Vince stepped up to the microphone and raised his arms to calm everyone down. When they were less noisy, he asked if they wanted to hear me sing another song, and the shouts and yelling started all over again. Vince looked over at me and I shrugged and then nodded yes. The noise from the crowd rose even louder, and this time, I stepped forward to the microphone and raised my arms to quiet them down.
I tried to talk, but they still couldn’t hear me over the chatter. I raised my finger to my mouth, and then they started to quiet down. “I want to thank all of you for the great feeling you have given me. I have a song I’d like to sing, in remembrance of the person who taught me the importance of music, my mother, Emily Carter Owens.” The people responded with a sustained clapping. When it began to abate, I looked towards Grandma and Grandpa and mouthed, “Thank you.” I nodded to Vince, and the band began to play.
Justin and Vince had talked me through the possible outcomes of my first stage appearance, the “what ifs.” If I came out and wowed the crowd, then I would need to have a second, equally powerful and moving song to sing. If this scenario happened, I had practiced the song from the movie,
Space Jam,
and sung by R. Kelly, “I Believe I can fly.” If, on the other hand, it didn’t go quite as expected, I had the opportunity to decide if I still wanted to do the second song or if I should slip quietly into the night. They were the ones who suggested I do a duet with Tina to break the ice. It would be less stressful and help to take some of the nerves away. I don’t think any of us anticipated the reaction from the crowd that night. Tina and I blended really, really well, and she had made it easy for me to be successful. She deserved much of the credit for the reception I had received. Now, it was all up to me. I filled myself with the magic of the moment and let the music lead me.
I put all of the great feelings of the day into my heart and sang from deep inside. I sought out Allison’s face, and I locked eyes with her, afraid to break the deep connection in our gaze. When I got to the chorus, I raised my arms skyward and lifted my heart and head to Heaven. I sang with all of the emotion that had made my mother who she was and who I wanted to be. When I was done, there were more than a few people in tears. I had sung a story, and it had touched many of them. I was filled with the certainty that I had found out who I was supposed to be. The tremendous ovation helped me understand that music would not only be my calling, but my personal hope at salvation.
I finished and handed the stage back to Justin, Vince, Tina, and the band. As I made my way to the side of the stage, the members of the band joined in and applauded for me, as well. Allison waited at the bottom of the steps and threw her arms around me, “Amazing,” was all she said and hugged me enthusiastically. Matt pounded me on the back and Dani smiled at me, her eyes
glistening
. With my arm around Allison, I made my way through all of the congratulations, like “great job” and “your mom would be so proud,” to find my grandparents and Aunt Marcie. The band had continued, and this time, they were playing an old “Beatles” song. Allison was enjoying the attention almost as much as I was.
Some people would say, “Better hang on to this one, he’s got the makings of a big star,” and she’d reply, “I’m not letting him out of my sight, so don’t you worry!” I took it all in and loved every moment of it.
By the time we made it to Grandma Sarah, she had already received her own share of compliments, from all of her friends. They were all telling her how great I was. She definitely had her proud face on by time I stood in front of her. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me for a moment, then the tears filled her eyes, and she hugged me and Allison at the same time. Allison didn’t know what to do at first, then she gave into the hug. Aunt Marcie took her turn, as soon as Grandma let go of us, hugging me too. She kissed me on the cheek and told me how proud Mom would have been of me today. I nearly let my own emotions get the best of me but managed to keep them in. I was glad when Grandpa Jake stepped in and grabbed my right hand, shaking it up and down with lively enthusiasm. He was as excited as I think I’d ever seen him. He just kept rambling about what a great job I did and did I see how the crowd reacted? I smiled and bobbed my head in agreement with everything he said.
After a few minutes, the emotions started to settle down, and I looked at Allison. I suggested we go get a pop. We said our goodbyes to everyone, and I reached out for her hand at the same time hers sought mine. Our fingers just interlocked naturally, as we headed away from the street dance and towards the refreshment stand.
Allison stopped me before we could step in line, turning to face me. Seeing deep within my eyes, she reached into my heart as she affectionately told me, “This is a day I will always remember!”
“For me, too,” I responded.
Chapter 9
I was still lying in bed when Great Aunt Vicky knocked. I responded and told her to come on in. She opened the door slowly, making her way cautiously into my room. I could see as much by the look on her face as I’m sure she saw on mine, the effort it was taking just to get up and around this morning. Great Aunt Vicky stepped around my shoes on the floor and sat down on the end of the bed. She asked if I had slept okay and if there was anything she could get for me. I told her I was fine and after I took a hot shower, I’d be downstairs to help out with any of the pending decisions that needed to be made. She told me that would be fine and wanted to know if she could prepare a breakfast for me or not. I said not. With my answer, she stood up and gave me her best “it will be okay smile,” then headed back out the door.
I would have loved to just stay in bed all day, but I knew I needed to get up and get moving. Nothing was going to change by me just lying there. After stretching, I gave myself one last indulgence, thinking back to how I felt on that magical night with Allison at the town festival. Looking backward, years later, I pondered the events of so long ago. Just like yesterday with my father, maybe it was me who had things wrong. Grandpa’s death was going to hit me very, very hard. I knew it without a doubt. The death of my mom, then Grandma was horrible, but with Dad and I being so distant with each other, Grandpa’s death was the end of the connections I once had. Like them, I was feeling severed.
I threw back the covers and willed myself up and out of bed. My duffle bag, with all of my clothes, was sitting on the chair next to my desk. Funny how some things strike you at the oddest moments. Opening the duffle bag and grabbing a pair of pants, I was hit with an uncontrollable urge to laugh. Here I was in my own room, basically still the same way I had left it nearly six years ago, and I was no longer its occupant, but a guest instead.
When I left Cedar Junction, I had taken very few things with me. Maybe, I hoped even back then, there would be a reason to come home, but somehow, I never found the courage or an opportune excuse to return. I put as much distance as I could between me and my life here and the memories it contained. Looking around my room now, all I felt was sadness. There were plenty of happy memories represented in my room. Baseball cards and car models adorned my dresser, each a memory of a happier time. I couldn’t undo the decisions of the past and the things that once brought me joy long ago, now felt like they belonged to someone else.
I was at a loss and without hope for the first time in my life. I always felt that no matter how bad things would get for me, I could always come home and find comfort and guidance. I needed my grandparents. They were the ones keeping the old memories fresh and alive for me. If it now rested solely within me, I didn’t believe I had the resolve to keep them going.
I thought about Dad as I headed to the bathroom to get ready for the challenging day ahead. He was even more of a stranger to this house than even what I had become. It was not a good feeling. My heart went out to him as I came to terms with the mutual pain we shared. The knowledge we were now bonded by our suffering worked its way through my consciousness. Looking in the mirror as I shaved, I instinctively knew I no longer wanted to travel this God-forsaken road I had chosen. This time, I let a single, solitary tear speak the inner truth I had been avoiding for so long now; it was time for my heart to come home. I might no longer own the right to be a part of this town and the people I ran away from, but I wouldn’t ever have the opportunity if I didn’t try to resolve the wounds of the past. I had plenty of apologies to give and I needed to seek forgiveness from those who mattered most in my life. I needed to start with the man whom I resembled in the mirror, my father.
I let the hot water of the shower cascade down the back of my neck. The rhythmic beating of the water jets and the intense warmth of the water slowly began to wash the tiredness out of my body and soul. So many questions were forming in my head. I began to worry about all of the things that would have to be done, not just for the funeral, but afterward. I knew I had plenty of help, and that knowledge provided me with some marginal relief. All the help in the world couldn’t bring my grandparents back! I shook the thought away and focused on the task at hand…surviving the day.
I threw on a pair of jeans and a “Tempest Wind,” tee shirt, the name of the band I currently sang with in San Diego. I took an extra long gander at myself in the full-length mirror, hung from the back of my closet door. I looked so much like my father and grandfather; even my general height and body shape was similar. I smiled, hoping I would be lucky enough to end up with my mom’s genes and somehow manage to keep all of my hair. I needed a haircut and mentally made a note to get it done today or tomorrow at the latest. In three days, I would turn twenty-four and, today, I felt forty-four, maybe even eighty-four. My eyes still looked hollow in the mirror. For all the Californian life I’d been living, my complexion was two shades light of healthy looking. I felt a hammering at the back of my mind. More and more fragments from the insurmountable wall I had built up, to keep the unwanted memories and feelings at bay, were being methodically chipped away.
I left my bedroom to make my way downstairs. Voices were coming from the kitchen, and I headed in that direction. The wide hallway that traversed from the entry way to the back of the house also showcased my grandma’s wall of retrospect. My Grandma Sarah may have put her talent for painting on hold, but she also had, just as much, if not more talent for photography. She could have made any advertising or publishing company better with her keen eye and presentation skills. Many people would walk along the hall and stop to look at the pictures. It was lost on some, but many could also see the arrangement of the pictures created a greater depth of meaning than just photographs hanging on the wall. These were the people who intrigued Grandma Sarah and she never got tired of trying to capture their attention.
Grandma Sarah was fond of story telling, and the wall was her instrument. Over the years it had changed colors many times and Grandpa never complained when Grandma told him she was thinking of rearranging the pictures. I can picture her, no pun intended, standing at the wall, one hand holding on to the paint can and a brush in the other. Her face would be full of life and determination! She’d be explaining to Grandpa how the pictures should be hung on the wall. The paintbrush would wave back and forth like a magic wand, trying to conjure up the total scene for my hapless grandfather. I’m not sure he ever could visualize what Grandma Sarah could see in her mind’s eye. He was never at a loss for compliments when the project was completed, though. I believe in my heart there were many days when people would stop by just to visit the wall and not Grandma. People would check in to see if Grandma had something new on display. They might have caught wind of it through the town grapevine, and no one wanted to be the last to know.
It had been six months since I last walked along this hall. I was not ready for the sight awaiting me, as I turned from the steps and started down it now. The wall was haphazardly full of framed photographs, stretching from top to bottom and side to side along its whole length. Photographs covered nearly the entire wall, all the frames fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It gave the whole thing a disquieting look. Even within the haphazard clutter, I had the sensation of there being more there to see than I currently registered on first look. I stepped back from the photographs until my back butted up against the opposite wall.
It was chaotic looking, something that a prankster might do as a joke. I continued to stare at the center of the picture wall, taking it all in, when it hit me. The picture frames were not randomly placed at all. They had been carefully chosen and laid out, so that when the entire wall was viewed, as I saw it now, an overall pattern emerged. What looked like finger painting was really a masterpiece. I gazed upon a nearly perfect-shaped heart, carefully crafted with all of the picture frames, and outlined within the center of the wall.
It wasn’t a surprise when I looked in the center of the picture-frame heart and saw the old picture of Grandma Sarah and Grandpa Jake from their wedding. What surprised me were the two pictures that were placed to either side of their wedding picture. On the right were my parents’ wedding picture and, to the left, was a newer, larger-sized picture of Allison and me, taken on the day of prom. As I studied all of the framed pictures, within the outline of the heart, it became obvious the general theme was all about loving couples. Every picture captured a memory from a previous, happy occasion. All of the pictures on display had a couple in them, Grandpa and Grandma, Mom and Dad, or Allison and me. I recognized several of the older pictures of my grandparents and parents. There were a few I didn’t remember ever seeing before. I tried to draw on past memories to see if I could place where they might have been taken.