The Spiritual Leader

by Denny See

Many of you know my husband, Duane Flaherty, passed away on October 3. You also know he had a guitar in his hands nearly every day from the time he was nine, and that he sang. Oh, he sang. A friend for all those years, and a member of one of the first bands he played in as well as the last, Denny See, wrote the following for him. It is wonderful, and it is Duane.

Thank you, Denny, from his family. Love to you and Barb. - Liz

The Spiritual Leader

Many years of songs and stories, of laughter, smoke, and sound, of loading up our battered gear and chasing music down.

We called you spiritual leader—though none  of us knew why. Perhaps  it was the wisdom the rest of us passed by.

You had a way with words, my friend, you could make a thought take flight, and when you picked up your guitar, you somehow made it right.

You never thought you were exceptional, though everyone else could see the talent that came naturally—the musician you were meant to be.

But we who played beside you knew the truth you couldn’t hide: There was something in your music that went deeper than the tide.

And somewhere in those early years, we taught each other well. I learned from you, you learned from me—more than either one could tell.

Some nights we missed the changes, some nights we nailed the part. There were arguments and laughter, But music from the heart.

And stubborn?

Well, let’s face it you could make a mule look tame. Once you made your mind up, you weren’t about to change.

But somehow through those years, between the right and wrong, we learned much from each other and made each other strong.

The last few years ... the songs we played ... we were really quite surprised, Awesome times were had by all, especially Three Old Guys

So now, our spiritual leader, you’ve gone ahead somehow. I suspect you’re forming up a band and giving orders now. And if there’s music on the other side, I know you’ll take your place— probably insisting you’re “just filling in the space.”

Denny See