A Birthday Song
By John Leahy
My son John (or John the Younger if you’re not into the whole brevity thing) turned me on to Tyler Childers a year or so ago. I like a lot of Childers’ music, but one song in particular resonates, probably because it’s about loss and what we do with it, which is, I suppose, what these birthday posts about my daughter Ceili are about.
The Childers song is called “Follow You to Virgie” and it’s about his old friend Cody’s grandmother and her passing in the small town of Virgie, Kentucky. It has a deceptively simple, vaguely familiar melody. It feels timeless, like it was written a hundred years ago. Childers sings it with a high, mournful voice and sometimes struggles to get through it on stage. It goes in part:
Yeah, I reckon we were heathens
But in her eyes, we were saints.
Now you’re calling all the boys home
’Cause heaven’s angels carried her away.
So, I will follow you to Virgie
Although it hurts me so,
To lay to rest this mountain beauty
That the Lord’s called home.
I love when people of different generations and musical tastes share their music with me. As an empty nester, one of the things I miss is overhearing the kids’ music. I can creep on John’s Spotify and listen to his playlists (which has opened a lot of doors—country and western—who knew?). But music is best as a shared experience and has been part of the most important relationships in my life, so it’s not quite the same listening alone.
A couple weeks ago the New York Times column “Modern Love” celebrated its 20th anniversary, and the columnist, Daniel Jones, shared the wisdom he’s gained from curating people’s relationship stories over those 20 years. A couple of nuggets landed close to home.
In one, about the beauty of impermanence, Jones wrote that he “finds solace in understanding that it’s not that flowers (and love) are beautiful and fleeting; they’re beautiful because they are fleeting. Meaning we must cherish them in the moment, knowing they can’t last.”
I found that strikingly similar to something Ceili wrote while she was in treatment, but with a reverse twist: “Transience has not always been dear to my heart, but in the past two years it has embedded itself… Beautiful moments are made more beautiful by their fleeting quality, and in the darkest time, the promise of transience has pulled me through to the other side. Everything is temporary and thank God for that.”
Another “Modern Love” passage, about struggling to move forward years after the end of a relationship, reminded me of one particular session I had with my wonderful grief counselor, Kristi. I told her, “I don’t want to get better if it means letting go of Ceili.”
In the “Modern Love” piece, the writer’s therapist tells her, “You’re asking the wrong question…. It’s not about getting over and letting go. It’s about honoring what happened. You met a person who awoke something in you. A fire ignited. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you.” Kristi probably said something similar to me, but in that dark time not long after Ceili died I couldn’t hear it. Still, Kristi helped me enormously, as did so many others—by listening, and often by just being present. And I hear it now.
So, my project, almost eight years on, is not letting go but being grateful for the gifts, the mark Ceili made, the things she awoke in me. She was 19, old and smart enough to see my flaws, but she entrusted me with her love and friendship. Of course, many parents and children give each other this kind of grace. But grace it is, and so we cherish it.
Ceili certainly ignited fires in those whose paths she crossed, and she left her mark on many hearts. The work my wife, Leslie, and I do with our nonprofit is much about honoring—and keeping alive—Ceili. We want to share Ceili with everyone because she was spectacular. Not perfect, but spectacular. We want to keep her fire burning, and we love seeing her awaken the spirit of service in young people whom she never met. That only happens because of the support so many of people give us.
Most fathers and daughters have a special bond, and Ceili and I shared a deep one. In so many of our passions—sailing, cooking, camping, art—we were soul mates, and I loved our times together pursuing them. I miss those times, won’t let go of them.
John and I have mutual passions, too, like poetry, the water, music, and much more. I’m grateful when we are together and can share them. Inevitably they lead to conversations that mean the world to me; they awaken new insights, and I walk away smarter than when I arrived.
Childers’ song continues:
Back when all us boys were tryin’
To make sense of all these strings,
I can see her in the corner
Singing along to all our crazy dreams.
Ceili, like Cody’s grandmother, had a gift for showing those around her: You are so much better than you think!
Here’s how the song ends:
I will follow you to Virgie,
’cause that’s what us boys are for,
to help you out when you get weary,
and you can’t go no more.
And can’t you see her up there, Cody?
I can see her through the pines
Sayin’ “Boys be good.”
So, it’s not just about loss—we are all transient—it’s about honoring those who make their mark on us, and those who help us believe in ourselves. And being there for each other when it’s hard to move forward. That saved me. And it was Ceili’s superpower.
Happy 28th, my sweet, spectacular girl.
***
John Leahy is vice president and cofounder with his wife, Leslie, of the Ceili Leahy Service Project, a local nonprofit organization that promotes community service and volunteerism. CLSP honors the legacy of their daughter, Ceili, who died of cancer in 2016 at age 19. Ceili loved her Fredericksburg community and worked tirelessly to serve it. She continues to inspire young people to act locally while believing globally. To learn more about Ceili and the project, click here: CLServiceProject.org.
