A special kind of man

As I notice people obsessing over staying young, I think of you. “What a privilege it is to grow old,” I say to myself. How dare people complain about turning 40! YOU, never had that opportunity.

I now have a new perspective on life, and it includes loving my wrinkles. Okay, maybe not all of them, but at least the idea of what they represent. You always worried about your hair falling out. I can remember you making me examine the back of your head with a flashlight. “WHAT, it’s thin? Stop lying to me, this isn’t cool.” You couldn’t stand the thought of going bald. Your hair was part of your identity and I guess I somewhat enjoyed seeing you squirm, though it looked perfectly normal and very thick.

Chester costume

Even though you worried about losing your hair, you still looked forward to being an “old fart” (as you famously put it). Dressing up like an “old man” for Halloween was your most reoccurring character to play, and you played it better than anyone.

During acoustic gigs we performed “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. I remember singing the lyrics and thinking, “how morbid”. But, people loved it, and you said my voice was beautiful. Now that song comes on the radio and I view it differently. It does hold some truth, though a bitter truth. “Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’.” WOW! I now realize  that this is accurate. What sets you apart from everyone else when you die, is you’re suddenly special. You are more significant than ever before and the worst component is, you don’t even know.

Mother and son

Father and son

You were actually special all along. Before you died, you made a difference in so many lives and sometimes I overlooked how special you were. Sure, you made my toes curl when you plucked away on your guitar and you gave me chills every time you kissed my lips. But sometimes, I overlooked the other side of you, the teacher. I tended to view you as a ROCK GOD that taught lessons on the side. Until you were gone, I never realized the full impact you made on others through teaching.

Working at A Beat Better Music

I instantly became aware of this amazing impact, and I realized YOU didn’t even know it. You made people’s lives better through kind words and funny stories while instructing them. In the short year I worked with you at the music store, my perspective did change. I can remember getting so aggravated with you for teaching people’s kids who hadn’t paid in months. “Tell them to get lost,” I would whine. However, you always assured me that it was an outlet for them and you knew they’d pay eventually. All the while, knowing some of them would never catch up, but it made you happy bringing them joy.

Doing things for the greater good because you knew it made a difference is the reason so many people still idolize you today. They will always remember you taking an extra ten minutes during their lesson and NEVER charging. Not complaining for them being two months behind on their lesson fees, when you had bills to pay yourself. Not only restringing their guitar, but cleaning it, tuning it, setting it up, even breaking it in for them when they only paid you for a simple restring. You were without a doubt the greatest man I knew. With today being your 35th BIRTHDAY, I honor that. I’m not going to say Happy Birthday because I don’t feel like celebrating, but I am going to say Thank You. For being a man that treated me like a goddess, treated strangers like a friend, and friends like family. I love you babe