THE DAY HIS MUSIC DIED
“Eddie, this is the sheriff!” The officer pulled his right hand into a fist and pounded on my brother’s front door. “Eddie, you’re sister’s here to check on you.” After a few more sharp raps on the door, the officer cupped his hands around his mouth. “You alright in there?”
I removed my sunglasses and peered through Eddie’s bedroom window. No movement. We waited. No response—just a heavy, uneasy silence. The sheriff’s urgent voice shouted, “We’re coming in!” Then his booted foot struck the door jamb leaving it in splinters as the door crashed to the floor.
The sheriff pulled his arm and sleeve over his mouth and nose; he shoved me aside. “Stay outside, ma’am.” I complied then waited like an emotionless statue while the sheriff entered the house and searched for my brother. Even before the sheriff confirmed my suspicions, I knew my brother was dead.
Tearless, I stood outside my brother’s living room window and watched the coroner lift my brother into a black body bag, seal it, and then wheel him past me before placing him in the coroner's van. “Please sign here.” The coroner handed me a form and one of his business cards. “We’ll complete the autopsy in a few days. Give the funeral home my number. They’ll know what to do.” The coroner climbed into his van and backed out of the driveway. I stood there paralyzed and watched as my brother began his somber journey to the morgue.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” The sheriff shook my arm. “I must be leavin’ now unless you’ll be needin’ me to stay. Can I calls someone for ya?”
“No, officer.” I shivered and drew my arms close to my body. “My husband is on his way. But thanks anyway.”
“Ma’am, the odor is mighty strong inside the house. So, why don’t you let me open them windows before you goes inside.”
“Thank you, officer.” I waited until he’d opened all the windows and then ventured inside. Despite the sheriff’s kindness, the stench of death stung my eyes and churned my stomach. I drifted from room to room, rifling through Eddie’s belongings hoping to make sense of his final days. On the floor in his bedroom I found piles of dirty dishes; soiled fast food containers; unpaid hospital bills; unopened Christmas cards; and unused bottles of heart and depression medication. A sudden coldness came over me, stiffening my arms and legs and forcing me to sit down.
So, I sank into a nearby chair; and there—buried deep within some papers on Eddie’s night stand—I unearthed a note penned in his handwriting that read: “I sometimes wonder if the world would be a better place without me. Why do I continue this existence? This façade? This pain?”
With his note still in my hand, I stood up and stumbled my way into Eddie’s music room. The flood lights that once shone upon the piano were covered in a thick layer of dust. I brushed the cobwebs off his piano bench and sat down. After flipping through the sheet music on the music rack, I lifted open the fallboard, placed my fingers on the keyboard; and for a moment, thought I caught a glimpse of my brother sitting next to me—his fingers dancing across the keyboard playing his favorite Chicago tune, “Does Anyone Really Know What Time It is?”
I turned around, looked behind me catching a glimpse of Eddie’s drum set. Although it had once seen a good deal of front-line action, it now stood silent like a sentry vigilantly guarding the countless original and unpublished scores of sheet music that were strewn across the floor. I crumbled to the floor and wept, clasping his handwritten note and his unpublished sheet music close to my heart.
“Oh, Eddie!” I muttered tearfully to myself. “Why did you hide your talent inside this room? Why did you give up on your dreams? What did you fear? Rejection? Vulnerability? Success?” My shoulders tightened, and I gasped. “But aren’t I just like you? Haven’t I hidden my talent and ignored the whispers of creativity? Haven’t I given up on my dreams of being a published writer? Do I, too, fear rejection, vulnerability, and success?
Eddie, I wish I you were still here so I could tell you. You were wrong. The world isn’t a better place without you! Even though your music died with you, your death awakened my dreams and helped me realize that the world needed your hidden songs, my hidden words, and both our hidden voices.
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