I was unprepared for the multitude of texts, private messages, and posts about his departure.
I was unprepared for the immediate void I felt upon hearing the news.
I was unprepared for the grief that washed over me when I woke up the next morning.
I simply was not prepared to lose him.
Dr. Burns influenced my life in ways too numerous to count. He taught me the importance of striving for perfection in worship. Who is more deserving of perfection than the Almighty, after all? The years I spent as a soprano in Lee Singers were transformative. Certainly, I became a better, more polished vocalist. I also became a better follower, a better leader, and a better worshiper.
Perhaps my most memorable “Dr. Burns moment” was in his office a few hours after I sang for the first time in front of the entire campus in chapel. He used a beautiful analogy of different styles of cars as he compared my voice to the voices of two well-known and beloved singers. While he gave great accolades to each of them, I left his office feeling as though my voice was the car he would choose to drive. His words transformed the way I sang. I no longer wanted to sing like anyone else; I only wanted to refine the custom-made tool that was unlike any other.
Dr. Burns, himself, was such a vehicle. There was no one like him.
No one else could sing “Our Father” or “Deep River” with such rich, baritone resonance as Dr. Burns.
No one else had his iconic “ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah” laugh.
No one else could raise their eyebrows higher than their hairline, an expression that instilled a sharp grip of anxiety as it caused the viewer to ask of themselves, “What did I do? Was it a good thing? Was it a terrible thing? Am I in trouble? Is he impressed?”
No one else could get away with using me as an example in a vocal seminar while discussing how wide the human mouth really can open.
No one else could lovingly encourage me to put a bit more effort into my beauty routine before a concert by stating, “Every old barn could use a fresh coat of paint.”
No one else could persuade me to learn the words to a solo in Italian mere minutes before I was to sing it…in Italy…to Italians.
No one else could convince me to learn to yodel, play the comb and the moonshine jug, and then do such things in front of an audience.
But how could I possibly say no to him?
Dr. Burns remained an integral part of my life for decades beyond my Lee College/University days. He was a friend, a mentor, and a father-figure to me during some of my most difficult years after moving back to Cleveland. He and Doris made it clear that their home was my home. I never had to wait for an invitation.
Ah, I could say so, so much more about how he will be missed. But I believe this poem by John O’Donohue speaks my heart, and likely the hearts of many of you, perfectly:
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives,
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of color.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being,
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was alive, awake, complete.
We look toward each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul’s gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again. (O’Donohue, 2008)
I love you, Dr. Burns. I’ll see you when I get home.
