Love counts not the years

I have been dating an older man. It ended yesterday. It started rather innocently. Someone at church said, you have to meet these new people. He plays bluegrass. That’s all I needed to know. I went into the adult Sunday school class and was introduced to Wayne.

It has only been a few years though it seems forever. It began with cowboy church and then slowly progressed to Wednesday morning coffee hour. It grew to include life: at Charlie’s Wednesday night, his home, and eventually in hospitals and nursing homes,. Where Wayne was, I would go with a guitar in hand. I learned what Wayne would teach me. He would come in with his amp and mandolin on the front of Monica’s walker. Oh yes, Monica is his wife and very supportive of our dates. In fact she would drop him off at Charlie’s and I would bring him home. Many times I would go to NE Rochester, knock on the door and let myself in. I would go get the amp and mandolin out if they weren’t already waiting. Wayne would grab me a Diet Coke and we would play until our fingers were sore. Often Monica would be out running errands but if she was home she would sit in the recliner and sometimes sing. Other times she would take a nap and her snoring was our bass. We would laugh, play and enjoy the moment music brought.

Several years ago I went to the birthplace of country music in Bristol, TN. At the end of the museum was a large wall of fame where people could write notes. I wrote Wayne’s name down and sent a picture fo Monica. If anyone deserved to be on a wall of fame in bluegrass it was Wayne. A self taught musician in his mid years, he was amazing. He played in southern Wisconsin in bluegrass bands. His girls tell me he played so much better when he was younger. I heard the cd’s. They were probably right and yet there is something that changes with age in music that can’t be described. It’s beauty in its own right. The most wonderful thing about older aged people, they aren’t too busy to spend time with you. Never did I call and ask if Wayne could jam ( what musicians call playing together), did Wayne or Monica say “nope too busy.” There may have been a dr visit to work around, but never too busy to play. If I could come down, Wayne was ready.

The hardest thing in life is watching the body fail the heart. Several weeks ago Wayne couldn’t play. His mind knew the songs, his heart remembered the melody but his fingers failed to make the music. The last few times We were together it was just my hands playing and my voice singing to Wayne. It was ok but it wasn’t the same.

My dates with Wayne ended yesterday. Jesus called him home. We all talk about the angel band and singing around the throne, and that may be true. Yet I can see Wayne sitting in a corner with a bunch of others who have the same heart. I can almost hear them call out “wildflower in the key of D.” Every jammer knows exactly what that means.

Yesterday I cried about as many tears as the songs we played. Why Wayne and I hit if off, I am not sure. But he knew something and I wanted to learn. What I learned goes far beyond Soldiers Joy, Red Wing, Ashokan Farewell or Old Mountain Church. What I will never forget is how the love of music granted us the chance to become friends.

Love counts not the years.

Love is patient and kind.

Love knows no time.

Except the time that I’m with you

As I sit here thinking, I have no instrument to play. That’s usually my way of handling grief and pain. Instead, I have to use my words to grieve. Our words fail us. We don’t know what to say. Wayne always said before I would leave, “ come back any time.” I can’t come back to where life was but I can come back to the feeling music gives. I can play the songs and they will be memories of the sweetest kind. Tears may come but that will just be softening of the heart to play more music. Just like April showers bring May flowers, tears shed in a song, makes memories last longer. Our dates are over, but forever on my heart will be the moments in the key of D, G and once in awhile C. Those are priceless and I am forever grateful that God, and Monica and Jim (my husband) allowed me the chance to have dates with Wayne.