Six months after Carol Jean crossed to the next plane of existence, I felt a surge of emotion — grief, yes; anger, no, more frustration; determination, yes; and hope.
I poured it all into a poem that proclaimed I had sustained the worst body blow a man can take and emerged shaken, but not defeated. The emotion felt so stark that I took a selfie and drained all of the color from the picture as I shared the poem.
I’m not done. I still have things to say. I don’t know what they are, And I don’t know how I’ll say them, But sure as I feel, I feel that I’m not done.
I’m still here. I didn’t want to lose you, And I’m not the same without you, But there has to be a reason I’m still here.
Let’s find out What those things I have to say are And the reason to go on is. Let’s find out.
Not long afterward, I set the poem to music, and when I recorded the song for my first album in 15 years, New Dog Old Tricks, I added two things—a sixties-style “psychedelic” passage in the middle, and a different opening and closing line when I reprised the first verse: “God’s not done.”
I don’t think any creative people are done until their earthly vessel finally gives out. Oh, and have I mentioned my belief that all of us are creative people?
And our influence doesn’t necessarily end then, either. How many of us have found an old card or letter — or a bit of arts and crafts — from a lost loved one and been moved all over again?
If you’ve checked out the latest album by Willie Nelson, Paul McCartney, or Bob Dylan, you know that it’s true. When I was a little kid, I wrote a silly song called “Never Say Die Until You’re Dead.” Pretty good advice for a little kid.
If you think you’re too old, or your time has passed, or opportunity is lost, think again. You’re not done, either.
