Circle of Life

It’s funny how we (humans) are so prone to forgetting. Miracles touch our lives, and often change our entire trajectory, yet years down the road we barely remember them. 

---

-The Magical Harmonica, Part III.-

(READ THE STORY HERE)

I was sure that my talent was a miracle, a gift that had been laid upon me by my father’s magical harmonica, and I played it religiously throughout my teenage years. 

Miraculously as well, my parents’ relationship began to heal, and by the time I graduated from high school their marriage was stronger than ever.  

Before I left for college, my father bought me a harmonica of my own. It cost a pretty penny and I knew it… I’d been eyeing this particular maker for quite awhile. Honestly though, while I appreciated the gesture, my feelings were rather mixed. 

It was pleasing – at first – to discover that my musical abilities were not reliant on the magic of my father’s harmonica. On the other hand, the miracles that I had seen came into question. My excitement was soon replaced with an emptiness in my soul.

College life managed to fill that void. Between academics, my music, and fraternity life, there was little room, or time, for anything else. My existential crisis had to wait. 

Shortly before my final semester, I met Rachel – the woman of my dreams – and one year later we were married. After that, life moved full speed ahead. A great job, a new house in the suburbs, money problems (no different from anyone else)… and finally a child – our son Charlie was conceived. 

I began to work long hours, and even took on a second job during the holidays and even other times when we were strapped. 

Every now and then, I thought of my father and his harmonica, and my feelings would oscillate between the magic that seemed to surround those days, and the emptiness that came upon me when doubt set in. 

Over time, thoughts such as these became mere folly to me. I came to accept that my father’s magical harmonica was never really magical at all. Then, the unthinkable happened. On a rainy April morning in 2011, I received the news that my father had passed away. 

This was not part of the plan, and he was far too healthy to die at his age. I was in shock, and the only thing I could even begin to feel was denial. No sadness, no tears, only disbelief. 

Months went by, and I seemed to just go through the motions. I imagine myself as a zombie during that time – still no acceptance, still no sadness, but shame and guilt were worming their way in. It had been too long since I’d made time to visit my father… and now he was gone. Sometimes I barely remembered him at all.

Nearly a year later, when Charlie had just turned five, a package arrived from my mother…a handwritten card was enclosed.

“Your father wanted you to have this.” 

Inside, wrapped in the same old white handkerchief, was my father’s harmonica. I carried it into my study, put it to my lips…and I played. 

The music that filled the air was more beautiful than I remembered, and visions of my father and I unfolded right there before me, as if decades of home movies had been preserved for me – for that particular moment.

Things I’d long forgotten came forth… the things my father had taught me over the years, the wisdom that he loved to share… and the magic that I experienced whenever he’d play for me.  

It was then that I encountered my grief. My tears were unstoppable. Never before had I understood it when people would say they’d had a “healing cry,” but that night I finally got it.

I passed by Charlie’s room on the way to tell Rachel. He was awake… his “anti-monster” night light keeping watch as he struggled to relax. I slipped in and made myself comfortable in that old rocking chair near his bed. 

“Have you ever heard my magical harmonica?”

“What does it do?” He asked.

I thought for a moment, and smiled.

“It depends.”

THE END

---

Boy did it feel good to write THE END. I’m not too sure I’ve ever said that on this blog (haha!). Maybe a couple of times I suppose.

Anyway, just a short note. If you haven’t seen this story before, here’s the beginning (I don’t know… it may seem more complete if you read the whole thing):

Part I (The Magical Harmonica)
Part II (Reconciliation)

It’s not long at all… a very short read.

I wasn’t sure if I’d finish it because when I started writing the story I must have been in a more sentimental mood. When that changed, I thought the story lacked humor.

In thinking about where I want to go with the blog (and my future) I thought it was time I grow up (a little) and persevere until completion. Finishing is my “weak zone,” and I’ll never change it unless I try!

Anyway, thank you for reading. I really do hope you enjoyed the story!

What I came to realize while writing about the magical harmonica is that magic isn’t necessarily found where we think it might be… sometimes it’s in music… and sometimes in the love of a father (which makes me want to cry because I lost mine in 2013).

I’ll be back soon with some new things, or maybe a shadow (haha!)… who knows?!?

Until then,
Peace & Love!!