|
Today would have been Bryan's 29th birthday. Bryan was a wonderful friend of mine from high school in Sanford, North Carolina. On June 28th, 2001 Bryan died in a car accident. Bryan was one of the most genuine and "real" people I've ever met, and was always getting into mischief - his smile was a constant reminder of that. When he died, the church was packed with family and friends, fraternity brothers, and community members; we were all numb from his sudden and tragic death. At the conclusion of the service, a bagpipe player walked down the aisle to the front of the church playing "Amazing Grace" and back outside, marking the close of the ceremony. I am reminded of Bryan all the time - a car similar to what he drove (he had a passion for fixing up classic muscle cars) or hearing the familiar, friendly twang of a southern accent. I always take these reminders as signs that Bryan is doing okay and is watching over his friends and family from heaven. Twice a year (once on Bryan's birthday, and once on the anniversary of his death), I always try to find a quiet place to reflect, remember, and pray. For the past five years, as I've been living in Colorado, I have been drawn to the serenity and peace of the Garden of the Gods. This year was no exception. I found a small outcropping of rocks, away from the roads and trails full of tourists enjoying the warmer than average Colorado weather and climbed to the top of a rock that gave me a spectacular view of the rest of the park. After about 20 minutes of reflection and prayer, I heard the indistinguishable tone of bagpipes resonating off the rocks. The melody, jumbled at first, resolved into "Amazing Grace." I listened for about ten minutes as "Amazing Grace" turned into a variety of other tunes, but could never quite determine where the music was coming from. I scrambled down from the rocks, hopped in my car, and drove around the main formation of rocks in the park with windows down, hoping to spot the mysterious bagpiper. Finally, I spied a figure in red holding a set of bagpipes on top of a rock located a fair distance off the road. I parked, jumped out of my car and ran up the muddy, icy trail. As I approached, he finished playing, looked at me, and I said simply "Thank you." I went on to explain about Bryan, and how much it meant to hear "Amazing Grace" at a time when I needed to hear it. The man asked me more about Bryan - what he was like, what I missed about him, and then asked me to write down Bryan's name, birthdate, and date of death in a notebook he had in his pocket. I did, thanked him again, and turned to head back down the trail. After a few seconds of silence, I heard the rumblings of a bagpipe start again, and "Amazing Grace" followed me back to my car.
|
