Young Love

Life sometimes serves up the most inexplicable sorts of sorrows – and there are a lot of us in Racine right now who are reeling from just such a loss.   Today was the funeral of a 17-year-old names Tyler McCray …  an exceptionally talented young man from Horlick High School who had lit up their stage  in a host of various roles in plays and musicals.  Last year,  Tyler became a private voice student of mine – and I still remember the excitement I felt when he first walked into my studio and flashed that million dollar smile of his …. and then began singing.  He was not actually a particularly accomplished singer in terms of sheer voice or vocal technique,  but he was an absolutely fantastic communicator when he sang – exceptionally expressive in every way.  I so appreciated and admired that- but I really liked how anxious he was to improve as a singer so he could become an even more effective and well-rounded performer.  It promised to be an exciting journey of discovery and I counted it a privilege to be a small part of it all.  Sadly,  that journey ended almost before it had even begun – and at a point in time when I should have been helping Tyler begin preparation for his Solo & Ensemble pieces,   I found myself instead in a pew at St. Lucy’s Catholic Church,  crying at his funeral.

This may be one of those losses that is impossible to comprehend and take in – let alone explain…..  but I found great comfort and inspiration at his funeral today.  Although some of that comfort came in the radiant words of scripture that were read and in a truly lovely sermon,  I found the greatest comfort this morning in what was shared by some of the young people who were so close to Tyler.  One of them was his dear friend Parker Munoz,  who once upon a time was one of my wife’s favorite students at Schulte Elementary School.  (His young brother Logan, another Schulte alum, has taken voice lessons from me.)   Parker is now a student at the University of Wisconsin- Milwaukee,  but while he was still at Horlick he and Tyler had shared the stage on all kinds of occasions and forged a beautiful and rich friendship.   I cannot quite imagine what it felt like for someone as young as Parker to be called upon to deliver the eulogy at his own good friend’s funeral – but he found the strength to do so, and to do magnificently.  One of the things I most appreciated is that he didn’t get up there and try to sound like a 40-year-old adult trying to bestow their wisdom on the assembled mourners.   There was no posturing.  Parker was completely himself up there,  speaking directly from his broken heart-  yet finding a way to speak beyond his sorrow,  to celebrate what was so wonderful about his friend.  At one point he shared a very funny story about a crazy moment that they shared-  one in which Tyler ended up laughing so hard that he was actually crying.  “Feel my tears!”  he finally exclaimed to Parker – almost as though he couldn’t quite believe that someone could laugh so hard that tears would steam down your cheeks.  “Feel my tears” was one of the refrains of Parker’s beautiful eulogy …. and I find myself haunted by those words- and will be for a long time.

But in some ways my favorite part of Parker’s eulogy was when he talked about how he and Tyler had visited an amazing array of places and done incredible things there – together.   He began naming them, one after another …  and it became clear that he was listing the settings of the plays and musicals in which he and Tyler had appeared together.  (I wish I could remember the specifics,  because it a brilliant idea,  executed perfectly.)   It was such a great choice because it was an ideal way to convey the incredible delights and joys that are part of a life in the theater.   It has the power to transport us – and to transform us-  and I know that Parker has experienced that in some very spectacular ways.   (I still remember with such fondness his performance as Harold Hill in The Music Man – which was one of the first times I ever saw him onstage.  He blew me away.  So did Tyler in the last thing I saw him do at Horlick, in one of the leading roles in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.)   They had experienced those joys together on the stage, and I can’t think of a deeper or more powerful way to forge a friendship than that.

If it required enormous courage for Parker to stand at that lectern and deliver a eulogy for his friend,  it took similar courage for some of Tyler’s closest friends and school mates to manage to sing for his funeral. When one is in the throes of sorrow,  it can be all but impossible to sing – or at least to sing like you want to sing.   I don’t know what their director, Ellen Christiansen, said to them …. but they somehow found a way to sing beautifully and expressively in tribute to their beloved friend.  I was especially taken with their tender and sensitive performance of “Precious Lord.”   Those words left me emotionally shredded as I sat in the pews – and I think if it had fallen to me to sing that song as a solo,  I could not have done it.  But those young people did it – somehow –  and to see and hear them do so was incredibly inspiring.  It was as though they were the very embodiment of hope in the face of almost unimaginable pain.

We heard the word “love” spoken a lot in today’s funeral ….. but even more important was the way we saw it being lived out by those who loved Tyler so much – and who will love him always.   To all of you who shared that gift today – Parker, Ellen, and the singers from Horlick –   thank you for your courage.  Thank you for your love.

Pictured at the top:    This is a still from a really touching video created in by some of Tyler’s friends and colleagues at Horlick-  and posted on Facebook.    By the way,  Parker (who delivered the eulogy) is visible right above the sign “We Love You, Tyler.”  He’s the bearded  young man with glasses.