These things are never easy, and never easy to begin to understand.
I often think God makes all of these ripples or reverberations of some being born, some staying, some going, all the interactions by the million knowing full well how each bounce affects each life. I often feel that me trying to understand Him is about like an earthworm trying to do nuclear physics, so I simply fall back on faith that He's always right. Not that it's easy. I always say if it were up to me, they'd still be here . . . . but it's not up to me, and I can only trust he knows better.
I lost my wife to cancer in 2005. Almost a year later to the day, I lost a good friend, a master fiddler and my next-door neighbor, suddenly.
He was a friend of Kenny Sears, another master fiddler, a veteran of lots of sessions, road miles, and many, many Opry appearances.
So earlier, this year, Kenny lost his wife, Dawn, to cancer. Dawn was a gifted singer, yet one of those awfully talented people that 'fell thru the cracks' when it came to the labels and big success. Her biggest fan (and there are LOTS here in town) was Vince Gill, and Vince never toured without her. Kenny and Dawn were in on the formation of The Time Jumpers, an around-town Monday night project for a lot of session/road guys to let their hair down and blow on a lot of old faves. Became a sensation in town, got a record deal, and it's great stuff if you love steel/fiddle/swing/old school country.
Here's Dawn at her best with the TJ's. Another gone-home soul in this video is John Hughey, a long-time pedal steel stalwart, played with Conway for years, and later played all the steel on all of Vince's hits. I used to help him with his Nikons when he'd come by the camera store I worked at. Really tugs at my heart to watch this.
Her husband Kenny is the middle of the three fiddlers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Fi-BhsKOMA I recently saw Annie Lenox in an interview on the BBC, and she remarked that regardless of time and tide, one day, someone stepped up to a mic, recorded something, and we have it forever, that moment and performance, frozen in time, like a photograph, and we are fortunate for it.
But it makes it no easier.
But I utterly know that if Tony Collins, or my wife, or Dawn Sears, could get word to us, they would absolutely insist that we go on, for ourselves, with their memory upon our hearts. Sweet Memories, indeed . . . . yet so achingly bittersweet.
Joey
