Remembering My Friend David Witherspoon

On February 18, my family got the very sad news that our friend David Witherspoon had died two days before, at the age of 61. David was Daddy's very best friend, and together they would play Daddy's composed music in the Berea Castoffs band for contra dances. David was also a writer, and I loved e-mailing him my poetry for his review. I grew up knowing David, and thought it was great being friends with another writer. He really liked my writings. David stopped playing music when he had a stroke in 2001 that took away his arm strength for flute playing, though he still managed to teach flute. Sadly, another stroke took his writing skills in 2006, plus removed his ability to even teach flute. Throughout the time I knew him, David lived in the countryside nearby the Great Smoky Mountains, and I loved going hiking with him whenever we got to visit him. David and I both have been really great hikers, and we also liked to just go out and enjoy nature, such as walking to the river that ran nearby his house. It's been years since I'd last went to visit David, but Daddy had just gone to see David last summer, during the time Mommy was away helping my aunt Jennifer recover from surgery. I was resigned to my task of staying home and taking care of our dog Rusty, though I wish I had begged Daddy to let me go with him and visit David. We had no idea how soon David would die.

Daddy and I went to David's memorial service together, right in the middle of a dance weekend Daddy was playing for in Berea. Daddy was given permission to miss the daytime workshops so we could go down to the memorial service in Pittman Center in Tennessee, near where David had lived. We were lucky enough to have a sunny day so we could be outdoors. I met David's brother Bill Witherspoon, as well as his first wife and his girlfriend. Daddy took the picture below as sections of David's memoir was being read, and it meant a lot to me to hear David's own words talking about his life. We also heard sections from David's novels and poetry book. I would love to read his recently published writings, though it would also make me quite emotional now that he's gone. You can see the instruments of David's jazz musician friends who played at the service. I hadn't even known David had played jazz before he took up the flute. I was fascinated to hear other people's stories about David, while continuing to be sad of course, that David has died. Daddy himself was invited to speak at the end of the service. I couldn't take a picture of him speaking, since he had his camera hung around his shoulder as he spoke. I was glad Daddy was able to speak however, and tell everybody just how much David meant to him.


Daddy and I visited the roadside creek both before and after David's memorial service. I could just imagine David standing with us. The creek was rushing towards the river we had driven alongside earlier. It was very audible during the service itself, and it was nice hearing it while people honored David and read from his writings. In this picture that Daddy took of me after the service, I was holding onto the program for the service, which had a couple of pictures of David on it. One is a boyhood photo of David balancing parrots on his shoulders and head in a parrot jungle in Florida. The other picture is a more familiar picture of David standing on a wooded trail that's likely in the Smoky Mountains. My name tag has a photo of David too, which is not visible in this photograph. I'm keeping the name tag along with the program. It's nice to have these pictures of David.

I have gotten in the habit of writing memorial poetry for those close to me who have died, and I thought it would be appropriate to write a poem for David too. This poem that I wrote a week and a half ago was inspired by a special butterfly I saw at the service.

A Memorial Visit From a Butterfly

By Rachael White

Here I sat at a sunny outdoor service
Memorializing my friend David Witherspoon.
David was a very beautiful flute player,
As well as a writer and nature lover like myself.

At the service’s end, two flutes were being played,
Off to the side and hidden from my view.
I was content just to listen to the flute music,
And observe the peaceful natural surroundings.

As I looked out towards the roadside creek,
A butterfly appeared, diving low before leaving us.
I was probably one of the very few to see it,
Since so many people’s heads were turned away.

Little yellow butterfly, flying free,
If it is indeed David who sent you here,
Can you tell him that I have seen you,
And feel blessed by your presence?

Can you tell him that I will continue to write,
And take walks on outdoor trails?
I believe David’s spirit will be with me,
And I will remember you, my butterfly friend.

I also thought that walking around and photographing nature around my house would be a nice tribute to David, starting back before I wrote the poem. This flower below grew on the far side of my front yard, and by the time I was photographing it, it was starting to show aging, but I thought it was still a nice flower to be in honor of David. The late afternoon sun was shining on it.

The sun had already gone behind houses by the time I took this next picture, but I really wanted to get a picture of this redbud tree framing the front of my house. Even without the sun shining down, I think it looks lovely. The redbud tree is actually on the property of my neighbors Tina and Jason. On the way to David's service in Tennessee, I kept seeing redbuds alongside the highway. Those redbuds gave me comfort as I thought of David and our shared love for nature.

As I returned to my driveway, my cat Pippin decided that he wanted to rest upon the brick pillar that stands at the end of the driveway. It is funny how he has one leg hanging out. My neighbor Elizabeth Crowe's house is shown here, along with her redbud tree.

These flowers were growing in Tina's yard right beside my driveway. They did not last long afterwards, so I'm glad I preserved them in this picture.

It started getting dark, but before I went inside, I took a picture of the sunset nicely framed by the trees from my vantage point on my driveway.

On the day I wrote my poem, I took another walk to inspire me, with my poem freshly on my mind. As I set out on my usual walk around Berea Municipal Utilities, I took this picture of the view in front of me while walking down the hill. I thought the flowering trees looked lovely. The utility building is off to the right, just out of view. The big white building in the background is the Berea Quaker meeting house, with my pastor Kent Gilbert's house beside it. Brushy Fork Creek is running through the trees where the walking path disappears from view.

I took this close-up picture to my right from the same vantage point. I just love this big tree and how the path winds around it.

I walked down to the tree and onto the grass to get this next picture. I wanted to get the beauty of the tree, despite the shed that has been built beside it.

As I reached the other side of Berea Municipal Utilities, I discovered these white flowering bushes growing beside the path.

I got to the creek, which is so much calmer than the creek where David's memorial service was. Once again, I could see water bugs hopping across the surface of the water. I took this picture, where a ripple caused by one of the water bugs is visible in the bottom right corner.

Looking to my right, I could see rosebud blossoms just slightly visible through the bushes.

I got this spring creek view on my left, while standing on the gravel.

Back on the walking path, I found this beautiful spot where I admired these two tree trunks growing together, and the reflection below.

This is another glimpse of the creek from the same vantage point.

I finally stood on the bridge leading to Kent's house and the Quaker meeting house. I took this picture just as my camera battery gave out. Throughout this walk, I thought of feeling David's spirit with me, just as my poem said.

Just as I was walking back uphill towards the end of my walk, I was startled by a blurry movement crossing the sidewalk in front of me. I then discovered that resting on the street beside me was a brown rabbit that had managed to come up to me. I was quite surprised to see that rabbit, and wished my camera still had battery power so I could take a picture of it. I immediately thought of the butterfly at the service, and imagined that this rabbit was another sign from David. The rabbit was with me for just a moment before it hopped across the road and disappeared into the trees. It was my first time to see a rabbit on my walks, and it gave me comfort like the butterfly did. It's nice to have such animal encounters while remembering someone else who loved nature. I had this walk in mind as I went back to my house and worked on my poem some more. I worked hard on my poem before I came up with the finished version above, and I think David would have been proud of me.

David's brother Bill has now read my poem, and he liked it so much that he put it on David's Facebook page. As of right now, I don't know how to get onto that page, even though I'm on Facebook, but it's nice knowing my poem will reach readers who also treasured David as a friend, musician, and writer. I went ahead and put my poem on my own Facebook page as well, as another way to share it. Through both poetry and photography, it's nice to remember David and pay my own honor to him.