Keep Moving - 3/9/2012

I have to be honest.  I didn't pick up an instrument for close to a month dealing with Dad's life coming to a close and then trying to hold it together with him gone.  Leigh didn't either.  I thought surely our shows would suffer when we got back in the saddle, but, luckily for us, Mike, Joe and Clayton picked up the slack for us.  They obviously had been playing a lot, and they carried us until we caught up.  Diving back into our work has been the best thing we could do.  We were gone something like twenty-five days out of thirty.  In addition to the shows, we filled our time with so much work that we hardly had time to think.  We played a bunch of shows in the Southeast and Midwest as well as the SPBGMA awards in Nashville where we picked up honors for Album of the Year, Songwriters of the Year, and Song of the Year.  We recorded a performance/interview with Kyle Cantrell for Sirius XM's Bluegrass Junction to be aired shortly, and did radio with Eddie Stubbs and Bill Cody at WSM.  We also wrote a song with Shawn Camp, easily one of our favorite Nashville Cats.  The people were warm everywhere we went and we really felt like we were on a roll.  Every time I found myself reaching for the phone to call Dad, I tried to busy myself with exercise or music.  Just keep moving.

After a run of ten days or so, we came home for a few.  All the movement came to a stop as I looked up at the North Country sky in the middle of the night, full of stars and free of any sort of city haze.  I could sense Dad all around me and my heart went back to feeling like a grapefruit in my chest.  What do you do?  He's our dad.  He's worth grieving over and I can't run from it.  When I love, it's all in.  I found myself smelling a hat of his to try to catch his scent, but it was gone.  I drove by the farm and I swear I could see us playing ball again.  I purposely try to dream about him, but he hasn't made an appearance yet.  He will.  I feel like I belong to this new club.  I keep running across other members who give me knowing looks and words of encouragement.  They all tell me the same thing: you don't get over it.  Eventually, the sting goes away, but you don't get over it.  It is getting easier.  We went out on the road for another ten days and pushed it just as hard.  When I returned home, my heart wasn't as heavy.  Thank God for a strong family and for giving me an outlet I can pour myself into.  What would I do without music?