Laura gave of her music

Chuck Norris once won a staring contest with the sun. I know because Laura told me. Laura was always willing to dispense her knowledge and talents--especially her lightning-fast, razor-sharp wit. I love how she would groan when someone else (mostly Dad or I) would make a joke, because that groan was always accompanied by a smile or a laugh. Laura had a stunning smile and a contagious laugh that lit up a room no matter how grumpy you may have felt.

One of the things I will always most treasure about Laura is that, despite her anxiety, she was willing to play Ben Folds' "The Luckiest" at my wedding reception in Boston so that I could serenade my new bride. She was 16 at the time. Up until the last moment Laura was unsure if she would do it (despite having practiced the song so much), but when she saw that it was so important to me she went ahead and did it. And for some, including my father-in-law, it was indelibly recorded in their memories as the most touching part of the occasion. Laura is indelibly recorded in my memory in some of the most touching experiences of my life.

I loved to hear Laura play the piano. One night, shortly before she returned to Iowa, I visited her at her apartment (at Sparks II) and she went to the lounge and played a song for me on the old, out-of-tune piano. It was Regina Spektor's "Samson." I tried to sing it but my voice was not a good fit for the song--which Laura informed me of. She did this without malice, just matter-of-factly. It still hurt my feelings because I based a lot of my self confidence in high school on my good singing voice, but I tried to hide the fact that it hurt.

And then Laura sang, and it was beautiful. I hadn't heard her sing solo in years, and her voice was so mature and full of emotion and expression. Hearing her sing erased much of my foolish hurt because singing should not be a contest, but an expression of self that touches others. And her singing was pure expression because it included everything; she was nervous about singing in front of me and it showed at first, but she opened herself up more to the music and finished beautifully. She was able to keep going even when she felt she had made a mistake.

I will treasure that memory and the many others in which Laura used music to reach out to others. I don't know that I have any recordings of Laura singing, but I would give a lot to have a recording of her song that night. I'm sure at the time that is was not a warning of what was eventually to come, but when she sang the lyric in the song "I have to go, I have to go" I never would have imagined that she would be gone. I still can't believe she is gone. Dear God, I miss her. But I know she is happier there. This scripture game me a lot of comfort last night:

“…the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body…whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11-12).

Laura strove so hard to be righteous. I am so happy to picture Laura there, where she must be much as she once was (but even more so): happy. And it comforts me to know that she is at peace and resting from all care and sorrow. She carried so much. And I miss her so much. So much.