Danny Boy

Emma was a very active performer, so the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was filled with concerts and/or performances from the time she joined the Fairfield County Children’s Choir in 5th grade.  Sarah is also a performer, so between the two girls, we would have a concert or performance every weekend and usually one weeknight, as well.  Part of surviving our first holiday season without Emma was enduring the painful reminders cast by the concerts we attended this year, as well as the pain of the concerts we no longer needed to attend.

Maybe it was this season of music that sparked this memory of Peter’s.

He was in the kitchen, correcting papers or doing some other schoolwork, when he was distracted by music coming from our living room. It was an a cappella version of Danny Boy. He immediately recognized the song, it was my father’s favorite, but he did not recognize the artist. Peter had always thought the song a little sappy and never quite understood what there was about it that could turn a gruff Irishman to mush.  But this rendition was striking a chord in him. The single voice was incredibly pure and plaintive. It was a voice he had not heard before and he needed to identify it. He called into the next room, “What’s that I’m hearing?" Emma appeared around the corner. “I’m sorry. Am I bothering you?” she said. “Emma, was that you?” “Yes, Daddy, but I can stop.” “Don’t stop!” Peter said. “Emma, I didn’t know you could sing like that! Definitely keep singing!”

I don’t know if you would call it irony or coincidence or cruelty, but Danny Boy was performed by two different ensembles at Sarah’s middle school winter concert this December. Others may play it or sing it, but for us it will forever be owned by two that we have lost: my dad, who eyes welled up whenever he heard it, and Emma, who made her dad understand that for the first time.