Missing Buddy

It's been a year since I wrote a tribute the best dog I'll ever know. As these things tend to go, sometimes it feels like yesterday and sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. The Casa de Sez still feels a bit empty without Buddy, and we all still miss him terribly. With a year gone by now, he's been on my mind more than usual, so it feels like a good time to share a quick story about friendship, loss, and the overwhelming power of Ray Charles in front of a piano.

Soon after we said goodbye to Buddy boy, Mrs. Sez and I drowned our sorrows by binge-watching Boardwalk Empire, because we're only about 20 years behind on good TV shows. In the middle of season three, there's an episode focused on Al Capone where he does many things you might expect from Al Capone. However, there's a subplot about his deaf son being bullied at school. After initially trying to teach his son to physically fight back - which doesn't go well - the episode ends with a brief moment that gives a peek into the lighter side of Mr. Capone. He comes home in the middle of the night and goes into his son's room with a small guitar. He gently wakes the boy up and places his hand on his chest so he can "hear" him sing a song. It's a heart-warming moment in the otherwise tumultuous life of a murderous maniac. A breath of fresh air that was much needed. The name of the song he sings? My Buddy.

Immediately after hearing Capone's (by way of Stephen Graham) rendition of the song, I looked over at Mrs. Sez whose face was filled with tears. She hears music differently than I do. For her, the words hit first, then the music itself. I'm the opposite. Musically, there wasn't much to Capone's very stripped down version in the show. Other than the obvious connection of the word "Buddy", the little ditty didn't move me very much. However, it was all the other words that hit Mrs. Sez like a ton of bricks. So, I figured this required a little more research on my part.

The next day I looked up the history and lyrics of the song. It was written shortly after World War I, and while a modern interpetation of the lyrics would certainly yield a different result, I believe the intention of the song was to be a coping mechanism for soldiers experiencing shell shock. More specifically, the song might have offered temporary comfort to young men dealing with the violent, sudden loss of friends that they made on the battlefield. Ok, so mourning the loss of a friend that you became close with. Things were starting to resonate with me, and then I stumbled upon a version of the song from Ray Charles.

Two minutes from Mr. Charles and I suddenly found myself under the same ton of bricks that hit my wife the day before. Within a few notes on the piano and just line or two of singing, he brilliantly captures the exact feeling of missing a dear friend that you'll likely never see again. Now the song - and Mrs. Sez's reaction to it initially - made perfect sense for the time and place I was in, regardless of the actual words being said.

I didn't get much done for the rest of that day, but that doesn't mean I wasn't productive. Sure I was sad about Buddy, but hearing such a perfect tune helped me truly mourn him. It was OK to miss him, and I was assured that he probably misses me too. Now I was armed with some wonderful music that would validate those feelings whenever I needed it. All it took was a casual performance on piano by one of the greatest musical geniuses who ever lived. Thanks, Ray. And thanks, Buddy, for being the type of friend that inspires such strong feelings when you're gone.