Classical music requires trust. When you listen to a symphony, the orchestra acts as a large hypnotist, it lures you in like a cartoon following the beckoning smoke radiating off a fresh baked pie. You tip toe, closer and closer, with eyes closed, you trust the music’s current. You don’t know where you’re going, you don’t what it’s up to, but it clearly has its mission, and now you’re apart of it. As the music progresses, things start to change, and you wake up, and before you know it, you’re back-peddling on ivory keys, and hanging on strings for dear life. Everything begins to crash, crash, crash, preparing for the big crescendo. The giant, the monster waiting in some conscious cave, ready to devour you the moment its big eyes see you. In this climatic moment, you might find more moisture in your eyes, saliva in your mouth, colors in your room. Observe yourself as the song begins to end, you are “reborn” in a sense. You’ve experienced some kind of resurrection from dancing octaves.
Hey bud, I’ve decided to write this letter directly to you. I might also let the world see it. I tried describing the beauty you might find in classical music. It’s something that you love, it’s something that I now understand is not just a desire of yours, but music is a companion for you. It’s not just music for you, it’s like a sonic being that knows exactly where you want to be squeezed and knows exactly how to give you rest. Right? Lately, I’ve also made it a companion of mine. I’m trying to trust where my symphony is taking me Ethan, but it seems that there is an empty chair in my first seat. I need a cello player, someone who understands the hidden mystery of who I am, and who I can be sometimes. I need you, my friend. I didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye in my work with you, and for that, I deeply apologize, there are things I hope you’re continuing to work on and I pray that you feel supported, loved, and deeply cared for.
I want you to understand something, something that you may never fully comprehend. You have and continue to change my life in ways I never thought were imaginable. I hope your new aides understand all that you’re capable of. When I first started working with you, I had no idea that you would invite me into the mystery of who you are. It’s truly remarkable. It’s thorough, precise, creative, brilliant and sincere. It’s a life that I believe that Papa desires in so many of us. It’s a life of holiness, it’s a life of humility, it’s a life that propels everyone around it, to be their full selves. In twenty-four years, I’ve never known what it is to be fully myself. To accept myself as who I am, and to love the man as a beloved child of God that Papa crafted from dust. I never understood the importance of looking up when I brushed my teeth to see the crooked bottom row, or to laugh even when no one else thought something was funny, or run as fast as one could, as if to beat the sun from crouching behind that hill you’d never dared climb. Ethan, you’ve taught me to love myself. By working with you, I have discovered and found a deeper intimacy with Papa that I’ve never known. I am so incredibly grateful for you.
Every day that has gone by, I have cried because I have missed working with you. I miss hearing detailed descriptions of Sesame Street adventures, and partnering with you and helping you verbalize exactly how you feel at a present moment. I plan on visiting you very soon and starting new adventures with you. I was hired to help you, teach you, and adhere to your needs. And yet, although I believe I did the best job I could, you did a much better job with me. You helped me to acknowledge the divine in the simple service of wiping snot and providing tickles. You were the muse that inspired me to work hard at thinking and praying about what I’m passionate about. Ethan, I have! I am so excited to tell you. You taught me so much. I’ve learned the importance of being still and present in every moment. You’ve taught me about sacrifice, humility, and you adhered to all my needs. You dragged me out of my pity parties with your firm hands and asked me to wash your feet, both figuratively and literally, in more ways than one. You needed Sheridan to be fully Sheridan, to accept myself fully as I am, and to love myself so that I could fully love you. You have allowed me to enter a whole dimension of love. I love you with my whole heart buddy, I really do. But know this --- Papa loves you in a way that I can’t even explain, but maybe you understand how much, in ways that your helpers never will.
Well, bud, we’ve reached our crescendo. But the ride has been amazing, beautiful, frightening, and so good. I’m scared bud, I don’t know what comes next. I don’t where the symphonic presence in my life is taking me, but I’ll trust a God I don’t always understand, because He must truly love me, for allowing me to be loved by you.
Your brother,
Sheridan R. Smith