FOR MICHAEL
/I just don’t understand. It’s happened again. A friend has passed, too soon, too painfully, too tragically. This one is particularly hard because we need all the good guys we have. We need the musicians, the problem-solvers, the-givers-of-unconditional-love. We need the great husbands, fathers, grandfathers, and friends, we need the eternal optimists and people of unrelenting courage and faith. We need Michael.
No one knows this better than his family and those who worked with him: he could always be counted on to solve, to encourage, to see a better path forward; always forward.
Remember that “Mikey” from the LIFE cereal ad? No one wanted to risk dipping their spoon into that bowl of the unknown and untried. “Let Mikey try it. He’ll try anything!”
Our Mikey was like that. Whether it was trying to help someone start their car or facing a multi-million dollar deal at the office… Let Mikey try it. And he would.
But. What do we do now? If he were still here we would turn there for his sensible, reliable, sound and wise guidance.
I first met him when he was in high school. We had just moved from Tulsa to El Reno where I would be the youth minister of one of the churches in town. I kept hearing about this guy named Michael and I knew that I wanted to recruit him to our team, but alas he was a faithful and committed member at his own small church. It was early though when I figured out that this guy’s life was unique. I’m going to compare it to a musical, literally and metaphorically. Remember the movie “Mr. Holland’s Opus” about a dedicated high school band director who realized only late that his life’s story was an opus—a cumulative work, a musical composition?
If Mr. Holland’s life’s work was an opus, Micheal’s was a Broadway musical. Not because it was overly grand, but because it was so real, so relatable and loved by so many. He literally sang about everything in every scenario. Even before his first drink of coffee in the morning he was singing about having his first cup of “caffeine soup”.
So, if my comparison holds true, what would you call the last eight or so months of his life: the final verse? A last chorus?
NO. I don’t think so at all. I’m going to call it a bridge. If you’re not familiar with the bridge in musical composition—well check out this explanation:
What Is a Bridge In a Song?
A bridge is a section of a song that’s intended to provide contrast to the rest of the composition. From The Beatles to Coldplay to Iron Maiden, songwriters use bridges to change moods and keep audiences on their toes. Typically, a bridge will follow a chorus section and present something different—whether it’s a different chord progression, a new key, a faster or slower tempo, or a meter change. A song doesn’t end on its bridge, so there will always be an opportunity to steer the composition back to its main themes once the bridge has concluded. —from Masterclass
And there it is. At first, it appears as a different song, which would mean the first one ended, but it’s not that. It’s something different: a new key, a tempo or meter change.
“A song doesn’t end on its bridge!” We will have the familiar refrains of Michael’s musical with us for years to come. It will remind us, guide us, comfort and challenge.
Michael’s family is wonderfully musical. With each note sung or played, he will be remembered. Maybe that’s what he would sing today, “Remember Me”.