| Each person has a lifetime of stories to | | | | time his heart wasn't in it and the guitar |
| share. As a child of divorce, I got to know | | | | gathered the dust of loneliness.Cancer came |
| my father when I was 16. That was the summer | | | | into his life and the guitar was summned to |
| he shared his love of guitar and music with | | | | duty again, it was his life jacket. He |
| me: I heard the stories of his wonderful, | | | | played his music on good days and the guitar |
| musical life.I spent many evenings listening | | | | waited when he was too weak. Last |
| to dad play, the music he wrote and the | | | | September it was displayed beside a wreath of |
| pieces that had inspired him, stories of his | | | | flowers and my father's ashes. It |
| musical past spinning in the air like sparks | | | | returned to its case and wasn't played |
| from a campfire. We talked music theory like | | | | since.As I grieve from losing my father, I am |
| it was tabloid gossip and we made music | | | | consoled by the stories other people |
| together until the sun was long past set and | | | | have about my father. My mother recently |
| our fingers were worn.There were some | | | | shared her story from a time when she |
| stories I never learned and I suppose he | | | | and he were first married and before I was |
| always thought there'd be time to | | | | born. She described how he sat |
| eventually share all the details that made | | | | cross-legged and hunched over in their tiny |
| his past up.I sometimes wonder what | | | | apartment, leaning into his guitar and |
| interested him in guitar and how old he was | | | | strumming softly. Mom says he always had a |
| when he first strummed the strings: E A D | | | | distant look of concentration as he |
| G B E. I suppose he learned it from his | | | | played his way through a song, like a |
| mother when he could barely speak, as she | | | | scientist bent over a microscope working |
| herself played. There are old recordings | | | | things out. I know that face.That is how I |
| with the children strumming vaguely familiar | | | | remember him best, playing his music.Losing |
| German folk songs, singing words I don't | | | | my father made me aware that every family has |
| understand.I frequently imagine my teenaged | | | | a thousand stories bursting to shared. |
| father at the end of a line, flanked by his | | | | It was time for me to share my father's |
| six younger siblings lined up tallest to | | | | stories with my four-year-old son, |
| smallest, all of them dressed in clothes | | | | Ryan. Time for him to understand our love for |
| made from drapes. I've added the dramatic | | | | music and why I wept at night.It was |
| climax where he decided to leave the | | | | like the guitar was waiting for me this whole |
| family production, making a symbollic and | | | | time, hoping I would pluck its heavy |
| shocking leap from "The Sound of | | | | strings and pull out the notes that were my |
| Music" to "A Hard Day's | | | | father's life. I picked it up and held |
| Night."Dad did share the story of the | | | | it close; so much heavier than my hollow |
| time in his life when he discovered the raw | | | | little violin. Large fingerprints on |
| sounds of the Beatles and Led Zeppelin in | | | | the varnish that won't be imprinted ever |
| the 60's and abandoned his classical studies. | | | | again, a scent of cigarette smoke in the |
| Around that time he left home and met my | | | | leather strap. I fumbled over a few |
| mother. He grew his hair out and learned the | | | | chords I learned from watching him play so |
| chords to songs that made his parents' | | | | many summers ago.Ryan watched mesmerized, a |
| toes curl. He must have mellowed with age, | | | | familiar intensity filled his eyes and he |
| because I "met him" again he had | | | | understood what I was sharing with him. |
| returned to his classical roots.Dad always | | | | His sweet, compassionate voice swept away my |
| had a quirky dream to play an electric guitar | | | | pain as he asked gently "can I |
| with a large classical width neck, a | | | | play Grandpa's guitar, |
| Frankenstein of an instrument that would | | | | please?"**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee |
| merge his love of classical and classic | | | | Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and |
| rock. So for two years he and I watched a | | | | music teacher who has enjoyed creative |
| luthier turn a shapeless chunk of wood | | | | writing for years. She writes for two |
| into a stunning instrument. My father loved | | | | Canadian publications and Australia's "Music |
| that guitar like a soulmate and played | | | | Teacher Magazine. |
| it for hours at a time. Then for a long | | | | |