Bud and Amazing Grace

Ho boy, it has been a wild three weeks.

Three weeks ago yesterday, I was working when I got a call from Mom. She asked me how I was doing, and then said that she wasn't doing so well. She then asked me if I was at home...and I knew something serious had happened.

Then she told me Dad had died.

He'd a great round of golf that morning. Then he had enjoyed lunch with a friend, apparently chatting about something that got him excited and inspired. It was on his bike ride home that...well, someone said they saw him stop on the road, then just melt onto the ground. Two friends saw him, including the one he'd just finished lunch with. Any attempt to revive him was futile. Death was pretty much immediate, a presumed massive heart attack. He was taken to the hospital, but at that point it was just...well, it's where you go when death is on the line.

Shock was the word of the day, both for Mom and for every one of us around. Still is, a fair bit.

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For years, I had wondered what in the world I would have said at my dad's funeral. Having me get up to speak would not have been a great idea. I have an awful lot of history with my dad. A lot of grudges. A lot of things that would be inappropriate to say when people are trying to remember the best of Dad. Unfortunately, these are the things that stand out in my head. At some point, I feel like it might be good for me to say them, to have a purging of this negativity once and for all. But not here and not now.

As it is, I ended up taking on the role of singing while most everyone else spoke. In fact, Mom said she had no requests for the funeral other than that I sing "Amazing Grace." I'd done so at at least four other funerals, so I was fine with fulfilling that role. It kept me from speaking. It left me with my strength.

So I began preparing.

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Preparing took the form of...well, of kinda dithering around on the piano for a bit, just to see what sounded good. I wasn't planning on composing, but I never felt any anxiety over what I was going to prepare. In fact, I really didn't have any thoughts about it. But one night, I did like the way a set of arpeggios sounded when I placed them behind the melody. So I kinda kept them in mind, and decided to see what could happen if I composed something.

I decided to look for some music notation software, and fortunately, found some amazing free software that worked beautifully. From then forward, I took off composing with joy and inspiration. I hadn't composed anything since transcribing R.E.M.'s "Nightswimming" for my high school spring concert my senior year. That was over 30 years ago.

As so often happens, I didn't have a concrete end goal of how I wanted "Amazing Grace" to sound. But as time went on, ideas came and stuck. Looking at the lyrics helped. The song had to have an arc. Obviously, the first verse was required. And there had to be a few other verses that people were familiar with. But one verse I hadn't seen before looked especially appropriate. And also potentially a bit harsh.

"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace."

The reference to the heart failing was a bit on the nose, but...still perfectly appropriate, right? I looked at other verses. They were okay, but just not as perfect as that one. So I kept it. And the final verse would be the final one that many people recognize.

The arc of the song began to take shape. I knew that going five verses in a "Bolero"-like crescendo wouldn't hold the attention of people. But it would be appropriate for three. At some point, I came up with the idea of real drama: have the fourth verse, already poignant enough on its own, be sung a cappella. This left the fifth verse to...well, pick up the pieces quietly, dwelling on the afterlife, then concluding with some solid chords that ended the song as comfortingly and surely as a pastor quietly closing a Bible and removing his glasses. That verse would be complete with light glissandi chords at the beginning of each measure. And a tip of the hat to the immortal Carole King came with a downward glissando of the final chord, as in her achingly gorgeous "Way Over Yonder."

The first verse: simple arpeggios. The fourth verse: a cappella. The fifth verse: glissandi. That left the second and third to expand on the arpeggios. So the second verse came with some chord sequences to wring out some good emotion. The third verse echoed the chord sequences with higher notes and another chord sequence I think of as my "Southern Baptist" sequence. In the song's key of D major, this would be a Ddim7 followed by a D major chord. Gave the piece a bit of authentic Americana, which I loved. I agonized over some of the progressions of the third verse, then gave in as the deadline came looming, copying some from the second verse. It worked fine.

The final embellishment came after I rehearsed it a number of times. It still seemed a bit stiff and not tremendously long, so while trying to sleep during the first night after daylight saving began, I was inspired to make the fourth verse full-on rubato, almost a recitative, but slower. Then the fifth verse would pick up, but still not quite a tempo, to emphasize the thoughtfulness I wanted the listener to have during those end verses. The first three were good on their own, familiar verses at a regular pace that Bud would have appreciated.

I said that I didn't have any concrete goals about how I wanted it to sound. But I did have a goal on how I wanted it to be received. And it was a bit of a cruel one. I wanted to provoke a lot of emotion, a lot of tears. I wanted to dig hard. I wanted people to come away with a good sense of my talent. And at my uppermost, I wanted to create a song that would make people think that I had missed my calling. Natural medicine? Spelling? Editing? Nah. Music is what you should have pursued. But why this? Here's a real first world problem.

Yes, I came from a wealthy family. We did not hurt for anything. We were told before college that college would be paid for. The expectation was that we would pursue something that would allow us to have a job after we graduated. Going to St. Olaf, I had an idea that I wanted to pursue music. But Bud said that music was a dead-end field, and he would not pay for college if that was what I chose. True, I could have chosen to pay for it myself and shoulder the loans afterward. Instead, I gave it up (after taking as many classes in music as I could that were open to non-music majors) and instead majored in Russian and environmental studies. The irony of this is that I did not find a job in either field after graduation, while many of my music major friends not only found jobs after graduation, but had them secured before graduating. Such is what happens when you go to a top-level music college. So as much as this song was in honor of Bud, it also was a final shake of my fist at him. Here's what you could have had. Here's what you missed out on. Here's what I was—and still am—capable of. Imagine what could have happened if I had actually majored in music.

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Dad's service was beautiful. Perfect, really. As it should have been, given that we had a full three weeks to prepare it. Everything. Many laughs and many tears. A niece who made the most poignant tribute to Bud by dissolving in tears and being unable to give her Bible reading, leaving her older sister to march on and take over. Three pastors worked together. A great slide show of Bud's life. A second soloist singing "On Eagle's Wings." And perhaps most meaningful of all, a presentation of our country's colors by an army color guard to Mom, to represent Bud's service to our nation.

As for my part, I felt like I could handle it stoically. And I maintained that until after my sister and brother gave their eulogies and we hugged together. At that point, I began to lose it a bit, and knew it would be a huge struggle. I even had to tap the pianist to ask for a bit of time to let me compose myself before I began.

It wasn't what I would call a sterling example of how solidly I can sing. My voice wavered throughout, especially on the a cappella part, and I nearly lost it a few times. I even clipped the last "peace" on the fourth verse, unexpectedly giving it some really jarring emotion. Many people just fell apart during my song, and it got unanimous raves...at least from what people told me. I just wasn't expecting to join in on the emotion. Well, that's how it happened. Anguish was had by all. And I felt raw the rest of the day.

Well, so it ends. I'd like to believe this version of "Amazing Grace" can live on for other funerals, for singers who are brave enough to tackle it. That a cappella part is brutal but really appropriate. I'm proud of my arrangement, and in time, may be proud of my rendition. But I'm still reeling from it less than 24 hours later.