I don't know why, but I am thinking about my father a lot. I didn't know him very well, but what I do remember is hearing him play the oboe. His concentration and focus in making the perfect sound. He was a wonderful musician. It could be, as I throw myself into music more and more, that void is being filled. I was very lucky to have the musical gene passed on to me by both my mother and my father. I never really said goodbye to my father when he passed, and today words (in progress) came to me.It Isn't Too Late (To Say Goodbye)
When I was young I can remember the music
You used to play, creating this sound, for hours every day.
But then the music stopped, the beautiful sound just gone.
The silence grew and suddenly replaced all I once knew.
It's not too late to forgive and to just let go.
To say goodbye to the sound you made, which I grew to know
You left in such a way, I think about it every day
But it isn't ever too late to say goodbye.
Years past, days long, an empty void not filled
How do you deal, when the music is gone
and your stuck at a fork until--
You realized it was there all along,
needing to break free, by creating a new song.
As I grow older, I can feel your music within.
It's such a strong part of me-I never thought I would ever feel this free
I wish you could hear the beautiful sounds coming from my soul.
The silence is gone and replaced with many melodies new and old.
It's not too late to forgive and to just let go.
To say goodbye to the sound you made, which I grew to know
You left in such a way, I think about every single day
But it isn't ever too late to say goodbye.