GOODBYE LUTHER...

GOODBYE LUTHER - Written July 9th, 2005
His casket is made of gold. I can imagine the warmth he’ll feel as he travels home. In some uncanny way, we all feel the same time of love today, listening to that one-of-a-kind voice. It’ll keep you near, to ease away the tears that his physical departure from us leaves.

But the memory of him remains in his music. The voice will live forever. Trying to convince myself of such last night, I ventured to the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home to say goodbye to a man I never met, but who touched my life in so many ways. Awaiting the northbound Madison Avenue bus, before I could put a Luther CD in my player, the damn of tear ducts spilled over.
A woman, sixty-something and graying, handed me a napkin. Peering into my grieving eyes, she was comforting.

“I know, baby. He touched us all.”

“I didn’t know it would affect me so deeply,” came my sniffle-filled response.

“Sometimes, love does that, sugar.” That woman was a nurturing angel sent from above at the right time. I knew that Luther sent her to me.

The journey to 81st Street was a trip down memory lane; Vandross Street, acttually. Remembering how I stole my mother’s cassette of his first album so that I could play A House Is Not A Home all the way to High School, I also recalled the many lonely Valentines Day’s where I longed to hold a special someone. Luther Made Me a Believer in that true love exists. Just ‘keep holding on,’ he said in Any Love. My wedding day? Here and Now played through the systems as bridesmaids and groomsmen walked to me. In retrospect, I wish I would have kept the promise Luther encouraged me to do in song. I should have loved her faithfully. My only hope is when Luther arrives at the pearly gates, his initial request to God is to send me another queen whose first words will be I came here For You To Love.

By The Time I reached the line of thousands who also experienced a similar loss, I’d Rather was in my ears. That song reminded me of a time where, in an attempt to salvage a foundering relationship, I walked into Houlihan’s with two dozen red roses, a diamond ring, and that song on the jukebox expressing every word I felt at the moment. Although another heartbreak followed, it was Luther who told me I was a lucky guy and instructed me not to fall Too Far Down.

Perhaps I should have conveyed that message to the many that in the grieving area. Though we were instructed to move through, many collected themselves in the pews. Sensing, feeling and comprehending their tremendous loss, the tears flowed anew as I viewed the rose adorned gold casket. Though closed, I saw him, and remembered him singing to me many times over. To the left was a video montage, the right were more flowers, and the many iridescent jackets that illuminated my soul along with that incomparable voice. Smiling as I recalled him actually moon-walking like MJ during one of his concerts, he Gave Me A Reason to dance with his mid-tempo cuts.

That it rains here in New York City today, the day of his homecoming, is one last symbol of his love. Waterfalls from heaven to welcome him home, he wants us to cry If Only For One Night, heal our hearts from all negativity, then resume our quest for the very thing he wants us all to share: Any Love. The skies, while overcast today, will be a generous blue tomorrow. The grieving will cease once God welcomes his prince home, but the gift of song he left behind will bring warmth, compassion and love for all eternity.

Goodbye, Luther.
William Fredrick Cooper