The rain during the funeral was cold. For a decade after I associated it with October even though it was early September. Cold rain flattens the tone of brass instruments and I used all the wind and fury in my lungs to fight it. When I played ‘Taps’ for my father’s funeral, it was the only way I could think of to say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. The ringing of that final note in my ears blocked out the shots from the honor guard. The rain stole my tears and never gave them back.