A String Bass Leaves Home, Part III (Coda): Saying Good-Bye

Karis, Allan, and the bass, in one last picture

This is the conclusion of “A String Bass Leaves Home,” following Part I: Back Story and Part II: The Visit (Reunion).

Part III (Coda): Saying Good-Bye

I was not sure I would write a third part to this story, but the coda is this: Karis may sell the bass. She is not sure about a career as a professional musician. She is called to life beyond the practice room (up first: travel!), and she says, “An instrument this beautiful deserves to be played.”

When she first tells us this, I feel shocked and momentarily betrayed—is she not the adoptive parent for this beloved instrument? Have we not entrusted it to her? How can she abandon it?

I sit with my emotions—Allan is busy being chatty and supportive, the only hint of an emotional reaction being a growing rant about the professional music business—and slowly I find my balance. I see before me this lovely young woman, so talented, eager, and hopeful. I begin to feel happy for her, excited about all the possibilities. Who better to have the bass after us than a person with such a full life ahead of her?

Our dreams, that she would play the bass lovingly in a blossoming career, were fantasies that spoke to our wanting to hold onto the bass, to control this piece of ourselves. We wanted to write an ending that suited us. But none of us gets to write an ending–this bass had a life that began well before we existed and will go on well after we are gone. Until we understand this, we are not really saying good-bye. We are not letting go.

We take our leave, and Allan does not look back at the bass. It takes us a few hours to really speak of this visit. Now, as I write, I am gently tearful, looking back and looking forward, feeling loss and gratitude and hope.

To my surprise, I find I no longer want to rewrite the ending. I am satisfied, and hardly surprised at the layers of this story: I always look for ways to hold on, and I can never have too many lessons in letting go. The bass is really gone from us now, and I do not want it back. But holy moly, I hope Karis continues to play, somewhere, somehow. A person that beautiful deserves to make music.

Questions for Reflection: How does this coda change your reactions to this story? How would you have felt upon hearing that Karis might sell the bass? What are the ways you approach or avoid saying good-bye? How does the theme holding on/letting go play out in your life?

Writing Prompts: “When I have to let go of something, I ______” (then keep writing); “The hardest thing about saying good-bye is ______” (then keep writing); “When I am trying to hold onto something I ______” (then keep writing); “This post reminds me of when I ______” (then keep writing); “The one thing in my life I am holding onto and want to let go of is ______” (then keep writing).

Tagged as: awareness, bass, emotions, gratitude, holding on/letting go, husband, loss, memories, music, personal narrative, personal professional balance, reflection, string bass, Ultimate Blog Challenge