Our Tune

I watched as my best friend was lowered beneath the ground. My wife, Shenelle, and I had known each other since our middle school orchestra. I played the viola and had a huge crush on her, while she played cello and barely knew my name. In our sophomore year of high school we were asked to play a duet, as the two best musicians in the orchestra. Thanks to this experience, I finally gathered my courage and asked her to go on a date with me. We’d been together ever since and even pursued music together, becoming a well known duet in the music industry. She was my whole world, the reason I play music.

And now, 14 years later, I’m scattering dirt onto her casket while our nine year-old daughter sobs into my coat.

Three weeks ago, my wife and I were in a car accident, and she didn’t make it. I was driving us home from a gig at the museum when a gray moving-truck t-boned the side of our little red BMW. I don’t think either of us saw the truck coming before it hit us. There’d been an issue with the traffic light that caused it to become stuck on green, so we were oblivious to our dire circumstances.

I remember only two things from the accident, both of them seared into my brain forever. The first is my wife’s vibrant smile from just before we entered the intersection. Second, is the sharp sound of steel crippling under impact. I hear it everywhere, as if a speaker in my head is stuck on repeat.

Even now, standing in the kitchen at home with the TV on, I could hear the sound of the crash ringing in my ears. Kaylah tapped me on my back, “Dad, I thought you were making me a sandwich?” Her swollen red eyes extracted me from my trance. She looked just like her mother, with her tightly coiled curls, and deep brown skin.

I shake my head, realizing that I’d frozen half way through making her sandwich. I finished the sandwich and told her to go sit down at the table, and I’d be right there. I poured myself a glass of wine and went to meet her at the table. As I walk, I take everything in as if I’ve never seen it before. The painting of the sky on the wall above the table, the wooden chairs around the table, the two couches in the living room, the TV. My eyes fall to Shenelle’s cello sitting on its stand in the corner of the living room, the strings still white with rosen from our last performance. Once again, I heard the sound of the crash echo between my ears and I averted my eyes before I broke down. I had to keep a strong facade for Kaylah.

As I sat down in my chair, I felt a sharp pain radiate from my left knee. “What’s wrong?” asked Kaylah. I explained to her that the doctors said I’d injured my knee in the accident and that it would be a few weeks before I could walk normally again. Kaylah nodded her head and I watched as she picked pieces of crust off of her sandwich. I sighed and limped over to her side of the table. Without putting pressure on my bad knee, I kneeled in front of her and turned her chair to face me. As I wrapped my arms around her she began to shake. I held my hand to the back of her head and told her it would be okay.

“Why?” she sobbed. “Why did mom have to leave us?” I felt my own tears welling up in my eyes and embraced her tighter. I tried to keep it together, but Shenelle was my everything. Ever since that first duet in high school she’d been my other half. She’d been what kept me going and woke me up everyday. And she was gone.

I felt Kaylah’s warm tears soak through my shirt, leaving spots. The sound of the crash played louder and louder in my head. I should have noticed the truck faster, I thought to myself. Then, Kaylah wouldn’t have to grow up without a mother, and I wouldn’t be lost in life. “I’m never going to see her again,” Kaylah said through hiccuping sobs.

As I scanned the room for anything that could help, my eyes landed on my viola, sitting in its case on the floor near the door. I hadn’t played it since the day that Shenelle died. For some reason though, I felt it calling me to pick it up. So, I did.

I released a sniffling Kaylah from my grasp and slowly approached my viola. Kaylah watched me put the case on the table and begin to unzip it. As I opened the case my thoughts raced, trying to figure out if I’d ever be able to play again. I stood there, staring at my reflection in the glossy brown wood of my viola. With every second that passed I replayed the accident again and again, the colliding cars sounding closer every time. Then Kaylah plucked the G string gently, and the sounds in my head quieted. I exhaled a shaky breath, and began preparing my viola. It was a process that I’d executed nearly everyday for almost 20 years, and yet it felt so strange.

My shoulder rest and bow felt heavier now, as if they were carrying more than their own weight. The sounds in my head had returned with full force and I could hardly process what I was doing. Kaylah watched on as I raised my viola to my shoulder and placed my bow on the string. I looked to Kaylah as if seeking her confirmation. She nodded her head and whispered, “Please.”

The sound of the instrument was clear and piercing. One note was all it took for the sounds of the accident in my head to be drowned out. And so I played. I didn’t play any particular song or piece, I just played the notes that needed to be heard. As I played I remembered my wife, but not the accident. I remembered the good times and the love that we shared. It was as if I was able to express them through the music. I played through our high school graduation, music theory class at the Cleveland Institute of music, our wedding day, and all our performances when we were one, through the music.

By the time I was done my cheeks were slick with tears and my fingers were cracked from the strings. The memories pierced through the sound of the crash and soothed my mind. The music allowed me to escape our sad reality and relive the best moments with my wife. I realized that I wasn’t able to give her up yet, and music was how I could stay connected to her and prevent myself from sinking into madness.

I looked over and saw Kaylah’s body limp in her chair, her face shiny as if she’d fallen asleep while crying. However, she looked at peace for the first time since her mother’s death. I set down my viola and scooped Kaylah up into my arms, carrying her to bed. As I laid her down and gently tucked her under the covers I felt a slight pang in the back of my head. The accident had been suppressed in my mind for now, but I felt it beginning to build back up to the forefront of my thoughts.

I began to approach my own bedroom, but shook my head and went to lay down on the couch, where I’d been sleeping everyday since I was discharged from the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in that bed. That bed was for me and Shenelle, not for myself alone. With her gone, it didn’t feel like I should use it if she wasn’t there alongside me.

When I woke in the morning, I found that the sound of the crash was already reverberating through my skull at full force. As I sat rubbing my head, I remembered the effect that playing my viola had on me last night. Perhaps, it would have the same effect today. So, I made my way over to the table where I’d left my viola. When I passed by Shenelle’s cello I forced myself not to look at it for too long, or I might get stuck there. I picked up my viola and silently prayed to my wife in heaven to please help me. As soon as my bow moved across the string I felt the accident begin to recede to the back of my mind. I let the memories and feelings of my wife wash over me and carry me to a world without pain.

I was jerked back to reality by Kaylah pulling on the side of my shirt and asking, “What’s for breakfast, dad? I’m hungry.” I set my viola down and turned to look at the clock, finding that the time was already 9:30. Kaylah’s school started at 9:15. How could I have forgotten to wake her up AND make breakfast? I told her to hurry and get dressed and then get to the car. I rushed my way through making a sandwich for her and met her in the car. She ate in the car and I managed to drop her off right as the last bell was ringing. I didn’t speed. I couldn’t bring myself to do that, yet.

Afterwards, I just laid my head back in the car. Thankfully, we had a Toyota SUV, so that we could still get around after the BMW was totalled. I wasn’t really working right now, since I wasn’t able to perform without Shenelle, yet. Maybe, I should just pick up my instrument and go to the studio, I thought to myself. The crash was beginning to resurface in my head, so I needed to be able to play my viola. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

So, I stopped at home for my viola and then made my way to the studio. Shenelle and I had rented out this space and turned it into a recording studio for our music and activities. It was one of my fondest memories of our story. I turned on the light in the room and looked around. The desk was beginning to gather dust, but the chair setup and the smell was the same. The same smell of rosin and the flowery scent that Shenelle would wear. Everything felt different without her. I winced with pain from the growing crashing sound in my head. I quickly uncased my instrument and began playing, letting myself be swept away from the physical and emotional pain of reality. I didn’t eat and I didn’t drink. This was all I needed.

A loud beeping sound shocked me out of my trance. I realized that the sound was coming out of my pocket, but that didn’t make sense because my only alarm was set for the morning. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and realized that it was Kaylah’s school calling me. My heart dropped into my toes. I’d forgotten to pick her up from school. When I answered the phone, the lady from the school said, “Hello, is this Kaylah’s father?” I told her that I was already on my way and I would be there shortly. I didn’t need to be told that I was late. By the time I made it to the school, I was 45 minutes late picking up my daughter. I profusely apologized to the teacher and then told Kaylah it wouldn’t happen again. Kaylah asked me, “What happened, dad?” I just shook my head, unable to admit that I’d forgotten about her. As I held her hand on the way to the car, I told her that I was just a little off and it wouldn’t happen again.

When we got home, I made sure that I made pasta and sauce for her to eat, and made sure that she had everything she needed. When she came in to eat, I told her to make sure that she did her homework, and I would be playing my viola in the other room. Apparently, I’d wound up stuck again because by the time I was aware again it was pitch dark outside, and I couldn’t hear any cars driving by on the street anymore. I checked in the kitchen, but didn’t see Kaylah at the table where I’d left her. I found her sound asleep in her bed, apparently getting there by herself. I also decided that I needed to sleep before that horrible sound returned. I stumbled my way to the couch, still unable to sleep in my room, and drifted to another uneasy sleep.

In the morning, I made sure that I woke Kaylah up and got her to school on time, but truthfully, all I could think about was playing my viola. I’d brought my viola with me that morning so that I could go straight to the studio and spend another day playing music with Shenelle. At this point, I considered playing music as being able to interact with her, and that was all that I wanted. When I got to the studio I made sure that I set an alarm to go pick up Kaylah from school. Then I uncased my viola, and returned to my safe space within the music and with Shenelle. While I was playing, I suddenly found myself dizzy. I stumbled around and barely managed to set my viola down before I felt my head collide with the floor. The world was spinning round and round, but I was confident that I never left the floor. I felt myself begin to drift to sleep and prayed that I would be able to make it back to Kaylah. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I couldn’t allow Kaylah to lose another parent. And then I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I was in a hospital gown and gurney, and Kaylah was sitting next to me. “You’re awake,” Kaylah exclaimed and began to break down. I nodded my head and asked her what happened. I had a killer headache on top of the apparent return of the sound of the crash. Kaylah explained that a woman who rented the space next to our studio had heard me fall and called 911. The doctor came into the room and told me that I was experiencing severe dehydration and starvation. It was then that I realized that I’d hardly eaten or drank anything since the funeral three days ago.

When the doctor left I gestured for Kaylah to climb into the bed with me. Her body felt warm, but she still shuddered against me and whispered, “Please come back to me. Please. I need you.”

What was she talking about? I hadn’t gone anywhere. She saw the bewildered look on my face and said, “Ever since mom died it’s like you’ve been somewhere else. And after you played your viola for us the other day, it’s like you’ve disappeared altogether. You’ve been forgetting things.” She muttered, “Especially me… We’ve hardly seen each other since the funeral and it’s been so hard.”

At that moment, my heart turned to rock. I’d been spending so much time trying to hold on to Shenelle through music, that I’d forgotten that about the piece of her that was still here with me. Kaylah. I couldn’t allow myself to continue to neglect my daughter just so I can run from the pain. She was also feeling pain, but unlike me she wasn’t trying to hide from it. She was accepting it. The trauma of the crash would go away, but only if I dealt with it myself.

I turned and squeezed my daughter as she continued to shake and cry. I looked up at the ceiling, praying to myself, Shenelle, life will never be the same without you. I will miss you, but I have to move on. For Kaylah. I can’t hide through my viola anymore.

And with that, I was done clinging onto Shenelle at the expense of my daughter.

I looked back down at Kaylah in my arms. I kissed the top of her head and told her, “I’m here.”