A ripple of grief

Something I love about Nashville: the music community is SUCH “a small town.” Instead of six degrees of separation, if you have any connection to the community you are at most three degrees separation from any given person. It’s why I can go into any live music venue and find someone who knows someone I know, and within that fact I feel perfectly comfortable.

It is also within that fact, that the loss of a musician is felt in this ripple effect, as word gets out about the loss.

On Monday, the Nashville music community lost a member who touched a lot of lives. Brian Steele will forever be remember to me as the guy with the smile that never ended. The room lit up when he walked in, usually because of his bright smile that went from ear to ear. I never got to know him even half as well as many others did, but he always went out of his way to speak to me and give me a hug. Something I always appreciated but perhaps took for granted.

One night not that long ago, I was wearing a Jagermeister t-shirt that my husband bought for me at a benefit for Brian after a motorcycle accident in September of last year. Brian was wearing a matching shirt and made sure to come over and point it out to me. We had a great laugh over that… I think when we have his memorial, I’ll have to wear that shirt to it. I think Brian would like that, and probably get yet another laugh about it.

Everyone I know that had the opportunity to play with him refers to him as one of the best drummers they ever had a chance to work with. And his love for motorcycles was undeniable. Its why many take comfort knowing he died doing one of his loves on his way to his other love.

I’ve been amazed to witness the way the music community has come together to remember Brian. Tuesday night, at the Fiddle & Steel, I found myself witnessing quite the gathering of musicians and those connected in the community. People I usually only see down on Broadway appeared. People I’ve not seen in months. It was like the whole family showed up. Everyone banned together to support each other and to remember.

The music community is a small town. A family. The grief over this loss is like a heavy veil that is hanging over everyone. Every night when we all part ways, there’s a sincere, “Be careful going home,” offered.

We’re all taking stock of our family and friends; counting our blessings. Hugs are not being taken for grated. And even strangers — tourists to our city — are holding out a hand asking if there is anything they can do. This city. This community. It amazes me regularly with how large everyone’s hearts are.

I like to think, that Brian is looking down on all of us with his drumsticks in hand, ordering everyone a round of Crown. Here’s to Brian… A kind soul who made a bigger impact on this community than he probably ever knew.