Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Passion, I believe, is the strongest force in the Universe. But it’s something we sometimes feel forced to silence for various reasons. So, the moment someone shares their passions with me, I feel an instant connection with them. I am honored to be trusted with whatever thing they hold close to their heart. And it makes me happy to see other people happy.

Usually I am excited by my own enthusiasm for music, and I hope others find joy within my passions just as I do theirs.

But it’s time for a serious post.

Despite the attempt at structuring the timing of my posts, I often fall short because the core of this blog has always been about honesty. This cannot be forced. I write when the inspiration strikes; I tell you all things about my feelings and my past. I write here, and I find out things about myself within the process of writing. It has always been personal, as I feel blogging should be.

And I haven’t been writing because I’ve been having a hard time trying to figure out what to say. It’s been this post that’s been tripping me up. The inspiration is there, but the next post I made had to be this one. If I were to pretend nothing had changed in my life, it would be a lie.

After a fight that lasted nearly a year and a half, my Uncle (and also godfather/ second dad), passed away last month. First it was liver failure, and then it was Cancer. The past 15 months are too much to condense into a single post, just as an entire lifetime is too much to condense into a memorial service and four words on a gravestone. I miss him, and I think about him all the time – every time I go to Starbucks, and whenever someone mentions fishing or casinos. Every holiday or family get-togethers, of which there’s been many recently. We need each other, and we need the memories. In a couple days it will be his birthday, and we will be traveling to Charles Town, WV for the horse races and slot machines to celebrate his life.

The only thing that made me feel in the least bit helpful after his most recent diagnosis was music – first when he was having trouble loading Pandora Radio on his phone and second when he was trying to find a particular version of a classic song. The song was “Hallelujah,” and he was sure it was an Irish group who sang it. So, naturally, I would know the song, right?

But I did not. I’ve always been partial to the Jeff Buckley version of “Hallelujah,” and I didn’t know many group versions of the song. I thought maybe he meant Il Divo, which isn’t Irish, but is a group act. A few days later, he sent me a text – Celtic Thunder. Of course! I should’ve known.

And it’s this version we used to open his service.

I put together the CD for the service, and helped find the full titles of the songs my family wanted to play over the “in memoriam” video. Although it wasn’t any sort of comfort to my grief, the music gave me a purpose. Every sentiment spoke to us, because our emotions were so near the surface. As passionate as I am about music, I can’t help but to both love and hate that we were able to find our pain in each song. I’d almost forgotten how much it hurts.

And it’s still there, because I can still hear my family’s story everywhere.