Music Sets My Soul Free

"Music equals life." That one statement has always been true for me. Throughout my life, a grand majority of it has always been set to music, whether it be playing in the background, or playing in my mind when I recall it later. Surprisingly enough, one of the people I think about most – especially around these days, and a few days in September, devotedly – seems, at least to me, to have her entire life set to music. Her funeral, three years ago, was just the same: musical.

The performance was done by a lot of people: the Miami High School band, as well as some of Miami’s junior high, quite a lot of her friends from high school that had already graduated, and by herself.

Her casket was a beautiful blue, with glitter making it shine. The corners had silver treble clefs embossed onto them, a beautiful sentiment to her passion.

It was at the church that the music first started playing; psalms laced with sobs, speakers always saying how much she enjoyed music. The music was playing again at the cemetery. The people fused as one band, one sound, and played a song that even now I cannot recall.

March 6, 2004. It was heartbreaking. The words, "She was so young!" and "I miss her so much!" were said over and over again, among the words of comfort offered by the friends she held closest to herself. A charming 'eulogy' - for there is no other word to describe it - was written during the ceremony at the church, when the words being said held no comfort for a close friend of hers, and mine.

He spoke of her entering the Gates of Heaven, and perhaps playing her music on a cloud for all to enjoy. He spoke words that I cannot remember now, but I know they held a deep meaning for me, in my heart. I hope to read that passage of strength he managed to compose again someday.

A year later, the people met again, only on February 28, 2005. Miami, Globe, and EAC band members all met with each other at the church to talk and become nostalgic of all the great times they had with her.

Hours - moments to me now - later, they all met again at the cemetery, and we played once more. I remember a bird flying overhead, a crow. It made me panic, and feel quite uneasy. It left soon after, though, thankfully.

The music, as far as I recall, was classical, or as classical as it could get. It was advanced, even for me, and I had to rely on a friend to help me through it. She helped me through it.

I was morose at the time, as we all were, since we had lost a friend only - what seemed like - yesterday. Of course, I'm sure we were supposed to. She was dear to us, and continues to be so. I'm quite positive that I would not be where I am now, were it not for her.

I don't remember feeling like this - despondent, distracted, cheerful - at any other point in my life. A mixture of emotions raced through me as I felt the music in my soul, though it was not the music I was playing at the time.

The music I felt was music she had played when she was still in high school. Halftime shows, solo and ensemble, concert pieces. One song stuck out most in my mind: With Or Without You, by U2.

She had played this on the bells her senior year, for competition. I remember this best, because I remember standing there when she was arguing with the band director about the beginning, and how she didn't like it. She wanted to change it.

She was quite the stubborn person, and he soon relented. It sounded beautiful when it all came together.

Another song fluttered through my mind, as the dynamics got softer: Angel, by Aerosmith. She played this in her junior year, another bell piece, if I remember correctly. Our friend Shari was a flag girl, and had the flag "solo" for that, when it came time to play it. It was amazing. I couldn't believe, from my position in the stands, that so much emotion could be put into such a short song.

The conductor cut us of. The lyrics to 40, by U2, flashed quickly in my mind. "I waited patiently for the Lord. He inclined and heard my cry. He brought me up out of the pit, out of the miry clay. I will sing, sing a new song. I will sing, sing a new song." What fitting words for such a moment. How ironic, yet how appropriate.

Memories of songs that were played and sung and felt help me to remember. Don't Stop Believing, Journey. Mr. Crowley, Crazy Train, Ozzy. Tons of U2 and tons of images are burned in my mind.

The music tattoo she was going to get. The music she left behind. Her bass clarinet with her picture in it, left unplayed, and untouched, until recently. Her band uniform, her utter joy for each victory, and the look of dismay, yet hope for another win, just after a loss. Her hope inspired us.

I have a lot of memories from sixth grade. She was my mentor when I was in that grade. I was a sixth grader, and she was a junior. She taught me well, and never let me give up when a note seemed out of reach. She could play anything.

This is her anniversary. Three years ago, early in the morning... what was she thinking about? Surely her head was filled with music, as it often was. U2, Journey, Mozart, Stevie Wonder, Bach, Aerosmith, and the power of John Williams. She loved music with a passion.

Now, I carry on that passion as much as I can. I'm making a mix using other people's words to convey my feeling. All the songs that remind me of her, or I think she would like. Songs on the list bring about memories from times when we played music together. Harsh, jarring sounds of two clarinets: one in tune, the other not. Marching off the field, singing. Arguments, broken reeds, band camp, making sure I make her proud of me each time I march.

This is my mix for you, Meghan L. Hammer. It's like I wrote every note with my own fingers.