FLY AWAY WITH CRUISE CONTROL
A Widow Bit – Sept. 4, 2011
By Mary Koch

            The retired Washington state trooper folded his lanky body onto the chair across the table from me, grinned and said words guaranteed to grab my heart: “I’ll never forget John.”

            What an opening for someone who doesn’t really require an opening to gab about her late husband! I immediately launched into a story John had told me about a time trooper Ed had let him off without writing a well-deserved speeding ticket.

            “That wasn’t the only time I let him off,” Ed smiled. “He was a man in a hurry.” That’s why Ed was especially touched, he said, when John – supposedly the man in a hurry – dropped by for an hour-and-a-half visit when Ed retired.

            Ed and I continued our conversation amid the growing noise of the party going on around us – people laughing, talking, eating, drinking, singing – all the things you do at a big party, plus hugging. There was a whole lot of hugging going on.

            The irony was that while Ed was cheerfully gabbing about everyone and everything but himself, the party was all about Ed. He’s been battling a particularly nasty kind of cancer that has metastasized. Ed and his wife Polly decided the best time to celebrate a life is before, not after, a death. They rented an entire restaurant for the day and invited their enormous circle of family and friends.

            For me, it meant driving the length of the state. Still, I wouldn’t have missed it and offered to provide background music. Polly happily agreed, but perhaps remembering that I often play music in church, warned, “We don’t want it to be a come-to-Jesus meeting.”

            She explained, “Ed and I believe we honor God with our lives, with how we live our lives.” The party was to be their expression of love and gratitude.

            The crowd was already gathering when I plugged in my keyboard and began playing mellow love ballads. Polly slid onto the bench beside me and urged, “Can’t you play something more up-beat? There are too many people in this crowd who are going to want to be sad.” I changed songs and picked up the tempo, which meant hitting fewer right notes, but this was a time for ignoring speed limits.

            Others played and sang also. The party chatter stopped only momentarily when a quartet of nieces spontaneously harmonized on the jubilant folk song: “When I die, hallelujah by-and-by, I’ll fly away.” Not exactly come-to-Jesus, but spirited. There was a heartbeat of silence when the song ended; then we returned full-volume to the party at hand.

            Laughter and chatter were still going strong when I packed up to leave, mindful of the 200-mile drive ahead of me. I loaded my keyboard into the car, thinking about how Ed’s gift to us was not only that we celebrated his life but his tacit reminder to celebrate our own. I drove onto the highway and, there being no reason to hurry, set the cruise control precisely at the speed limit.