Broken Wings

Today I played the piano at the funeral of someone I had never met, beautiful Halee, whose life was snatched from her at the scant age of 19.

By the end of the tributes, by the time her friends had sung to her, I wished with all my heart that I had known this incredible girl with the big smile and the matching zest for life.

Her aunt bravely read some of Halee's own account of her life: her mommy's life was cut short when Halee was still a toddler; she lived with her grandparents until she was about 8 and then went to be with her dad and his new family.

And the undercurrent of loneliness, of not really belonging, pulled at her until she discovered the librarian at her school and basketball.

The librarian read a heartfelt letter to Halee from her "Mama Bear." 

Her beloved basketball team formed the honour guard as her coffin left the church.

This morning as I was checking the news, I saw the story of another vibrant young woman fighting for her life, fighting the effects of loneliness.

Demi Lovato was in ER on Tuesday morning, according to her rep. Open about being bipolar and her addictions to drugs and alcohol, in 2011 Demi entered rehab. She managed to stay sober for six years. Before every concert, she would host a mental health workshop.

About a month ago, she released a song called “Sober.” She had fallen off the wagon.

Tuesday morning – YESTERDAY morning – she was rushed to the emergency room.

She is fortunate.

She is making it through.

This time.

The point is, with all the treatment and therapy and support and love sent her way from family, the entertainment industry and her fans all over the world, what does she cry in her song?

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know why
I do it every, every, every time
It's only when I'm lonely
Sometimes I just wanna cave
And I don't wanna fight
I try and I try and I try and I try and I try
Just hold me, I'm lonely

Her first big break was when she sang the theme song to Barney. She was seven.

This is what she said in an interview in 2013 about that experience:

"Looking back, there was a connection, probably between any kid who's ever sang that song to Barney, a little place in a child’s heart, a void, that could be filled. And maybe Barney fills it.” (Cosmopolitan)

On paper, Demi Lovato has it all. But in spite of people with her all the time, in spite of money, fame, talent, anything she wants at her fingertips, she is lonely.

Listen to the anguish in her voice, read the jagged lyrics, in the link below:

A loneliness that cannot be filled by anything that stardom has to offer. A loneliness and desolation that can only be eased and a comfort that can only be found by trusting in something greater than oneself.

Something greater than the loneliness itself.

It was 2005 when I got the news from his brother. Maynard, one of my oldest and best friends, had been found alone in a motel room.

He had phoned me a few days earlier: he had just completed another stint at rehab and this time, he was confident, was different. He was going to make his way home to his girls.

I flew to Kansas for his funeral. It remains one of the darkest days of my life.

With all the love and support from his family and friends, why did he still feel so alone?

A couple of years later I was introduced to Robinella's very fine album Solace for the Lonely. A song, "Whippin Wind," encapsulates to a certain degree Maynard's and my friendship:



The song comforted me that now, maybe, he is free. It comforted me today again when I thought about Halee.

As I left Halee's funeral, I mused on what is greater than loneliness, what can take away this all-encompassing pain that some of us have to bear.

And I thought of him, hanging at the brink of death, crying out, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"

Jesus Himself, alone. Lonely.

He died so that we do not have to suffer that excruciating loneliness, that feeling of being utterly bereft.

And so for those of us who struggle with soul-crushing loneliness, with the shattering feeling of not belonging, of not knowing where we fit in, I leave you with a song from Austins Bridge that offers hope in that awful blanketing darkness: