It is midnight, the sky starless here in this place where death lies silent. Quiet whispers about the day her life ended senselessly through the evil act of another reaches my ears. These are from the living invading this place of soundless rest. Each one left to live out their lives with memory of her creeping in. They come to give respects once again. What is it that they really hope? That she, a friend, can return to this life. Is it anticipation they hope for to see or feel her essence if they are close to the shell that housed her soul for a time. Are they afraid that they have forgotten? Do they not understand she is within them. She is in the place that we so carelessly call love. Do they continue this vigil to tell her that they are still devoted and miss her?

I watch, as each one waits his or her turn to speak, wondering where their sadness lay. Is it in the death of this friend or is it in their own living that caused this pain. They have once again opened the door to revisit the unexpected murder that life in its reality brought them. Perhaps their ache is in the fear of death itself as they realize that life is so momentary.

It’s time to sing. We stand in the formation that we practiced prior to our arrival. She was once a lead singer. I am new to them so it easy for me to set aside the feeling of sadness and sorrow and just observe. To watch each chorus member sing and remember the last time that they sang these same songs with her. These tears that they let fall are they for her death or for the space she left with them. Do they not realize that only in death can you see life?

We sing the song “Friends” appropriate for the scenario. The harmonics great for those goose bumps that music can give to those who know the “sound” of perfection. The only odd sound is that of a sniff where a tear shed caused someone’s nose to run.

As I stand here among her friends I find myself realizing that life is only today and the thing that matters is how we sing our own song. She sang her life song and now perhaps she sings another song in another place and another time. Do they see that they need to sing their own song? Sing it the best they can with the power to create those music goose bumps.

As for me, I will sing my song in death as I sing my song in life, with the love of the “chordisms” running through my body. But please don’t revisit me with sad mourning just sing me a song.