Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

I've been struggling silently for about a week now with a terrible tragedy that has befallen someone very close to me, Lucy. Her untimely death on September 4, 2004 came as such a shock to me that I've been unable to express just how deeply my sorrow and my woe run through my bleeding heart. She wasn't really my girlfriend, but she was definitely like a best friend to me, and the void she now leaves in my life will never truly be filled. It has taken me this long to even be able to begin thinking about it and talking about it.

I will always remember how we first met. I was really nervous. I wasn't sure about myself at all, but the moment I saw her, I knew she was the one. Her long, slender neck (this is so difficult), her beautiful curved body... she reflected the light in the room so gracefully, like an angel. I fell in love immediately, and I decided right then and there that I would take her home with me.

Our first few months together were pretty rocky. It was a tumultuous time of feeling each other out, trying to get to know each others' quirks, each others' personalities. She was a lot more rigid than I thought she would be initially, and I discovered just how much of a bumbling idiot I could be, but we learned to cope with each other, you know? We grew to like each other and need each other. We depended on each other. Over the years... she really came to need me as much as I needed her. Our last days together were the most beautiful times of our budding relationship; things were so new and exciting, and it seemed like anything was possible.

Lucy, my acoustic guitar, died the day I moved back to Penn. I opened up her gig bag and took her out, hoping to just relax with her. Being with her and playing her was a real calming influence on me, and I was hoping Lucy was up for it. The moment I took her out, I knew something was wrong. She didn't look right. She sounded sick. Finally, my eyes fell on her slender spruce and mahogany neck: there was a large, irreparable crack in the polished gleam on the back of her neck, revealing rough wood. The wound was covered in sawdust. I felt like screaming and crying at the same time, but I didn't make a sound. I just sat there, holding her, hugging her tightly, while I gently wept over my guitar.

I will always remember you, Lucy. You were my first. You stuck with me through very rough times in the beginning, when I didn't know what I was doing, when you could have easily abandoned me. You believed in me, then, and so I will always love you. I will never forget your beautiful body, your graceful neck, your angelic, six-stringed voice... (Oh God! Why did you have to take her away from me? Please just let me hear her voice again one more time! Please just let me pluck her strings and her music again! Please!) You were always there for me, encouraging me to become better, to learn how to love you better. I will truly miss the happy times we had. You will never be replaced. Even if I do buy another acoustic guitar, which is what I know you would have wanted me to do, you will never be replaced.

But in all my sadness, I do have one hope, and it is my confidence that you are happy up there on that Stairway to Heaven. You are finally what I named you after in the first place. You are Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and you are smiling down on me. You are where you belong now -- where you always belonged -- that jewel-studded place in the heavens you left for a brief moment to illuminate my earthly, terrestrial life. I will always love you, Lucy. Thank you for everything that ever happened between us. And rest in peace.

R.I.P.
Lucy Fender
January 7, 2002 - September 4, 2004