From Chicken Soup for the Soul Daily Inspirations for Women

March 5

Unk played the “fiddle,” but never when anyone was around. Except Eleanor. They’d been friends 70 years. Neither married.

Eleanor sang in choir, served at suppers, sewed for the Ladies’ Aid. It was rumored she played harmonica, but not in public.

Unk was 79 when Eleanor died. The church was full for the funeral, but Unk didn’t come along when we left the house. Reverend Winters read scripture. Roberta Gerrity spoke for the choir. A man spoke about what an inspired Sunday school teacher she had been. A long silence followed.

That’s when Unk limped down the aisle, fiddle in his left hand, bow in his right. He began with “Amazing Grace,” slipped seamlessly into “Greensleeves,” then wove strains from both into a sound more mournful and sweeter than any I’ve ever heard. The whole church cried as Unk walked out and trudged home.

He played in his room every night after that, until his dying day. And many a night, I swear I don’t know how, Unk made that fiddle wail and cry, just like a harmonica.

Steven Burt

Love and devotion do not end
with someone’s passing.

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