Andy Eddowes, a Virginia Beach man with Lou Gehrig’s disease, presented his 13-year-old daughter Rachel with a one-of-a-kind keepsake – a song written for her. DAVID B. HOLLINGSWORTH | THE VIRGINIAN- PILOT


By ELIZABETH SIMPSON, The Virginian-Pilot
© June 17, 2007



It was an unlikely gift from a man whose voice has dwindled to a slur.

Andy Eddowes, a Virginia Beach man in the latter stages of Lou Gehrig's disease, recently presented his 13-year-old daughter, Rachel, with a one-of-a-kind keepsake:

A song that will live on after he dies.

It likely never would have happened without the help of a far away relative named Anna Huckabee Tull, who writes songs on commission.

Husbands to wives on anniversaries, fathers to daughters on wedding days, daughters to mothers on birthdays. The Boston-area musician takes their sentiments, puts them to lyrics, sets them to music, records them with professional musicians, and turns it all into a CD.


She began this a decade ago, mainly producing happy, poignant themes of love and devotion. Over the years, though, the songs also delved into tougher issues: marking a decade-long fight against cancer, working through memories of abuse.

Tull is married to a cousin of Ellen Eddowes, who is married to Andy.

Andy Eddowes, now 47, was a Navy captain stationed in Italy when he began experiencing symptoms of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis - more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease - in 2002.

After the disease was diagnosed the next year, Tull wondered how Andy and Ellen would tell their daughter. At the time, Rachel was 9.

How would a mother let her young daughter know her father would probably die within five years? How could a father compress the love and advice of a lifetime into a few short years?


Would a song help?

She asked other family members, who worried it might seem intrusive.

As Andy Eddowes' muscles continued to deteriorate, he lost the use of his arms and legs and began using a wheelchair. His speech fell off as well, and last summer Tull learned he couldn't speak any more.

She figured she'd missed her chance.

In December, though, she received an e-mail from the Eddowes family with a story from The Virginian-Pilot. The story described how Eddowes was using a computer and an electronic device to keep communicating with people.

It wasn't too late after all.

She sent an e-mail to her husband's relatives saying she wanted to give Eddowes a song. Would anyone want to pitch in toward the cost of musicians and production?

The family did, and soon $650 was collected, which ended up being almost exactly what was needed.

She sent Eddowes an e-mail next, asking what he thought of the idea of her writing a song he could give to his daughter.

He liked it.

Tull began e-mailing him questions in January. Eddowes e-mailed answers back.

At first it felt kind of awkward. She'd only talked with him at length probably five times at family reunions, and now she was talking about death and dying and legacies to children. But at some point, she felt she'd "gotten in."

"To me, it was like someone who has ALS fades away physically, but their minds become unbelievably rich," said Tull, 42.

Eddowes told her he believed in angels, and he wanted to watch over and protect his daughter after he died. In the end, what might have been a song about illness and death became one about love, endurance and hope.

She built the song - called "Bright Eyes" - around memories of the father and his daughter in earlier years: Sailing in Coronado, Calif., where the family had been stationed in Rachel's younger years. Pushing the girl with "bright eyes" and a " thousand watt smile" on a swing. Holding her close. Laughing together.

Eddowes and Tull wove in a few realities, "the hugs I can't offer you as I watch this body wasting."

And ended with a nod to the future:

"But my courage does not halt or falter now

"I will love you long past my last breath of air

"God does not give us the burdens we deserve

"But the ones we can bear

"So watch for me, eternally

"Feel for me in the passing breeze

"One day I'll be sailing free

"Right beside you."

She sent the song to Eddowes in March.

He loved it. So did his wife. They cried.

"What I learned was his body is sick, but he is a very healthy person," Tull said. "He has a sense of humor, a sense of heart."

Tull coached the couple about how to give the song to Rachel. From past experiences, she knew the teen might not understand its meaning. It might be more significant to her as an adult.

The Eddoweses waited for the right moment.

In the meantime, Andy began arrangements for proceeds from the song - available for purchase on the Internet - to be given to The Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis Association.

Gary Leo, president of the national organization, happened to be traveling from his home in San Diego to Virginia Beach. A local chapter official wanted him to meet Eddowes and listen to the song.

Leo wept when he heard it, not just because of the ALS connection, but because it reminded him of how he wanted his own daughters to feel about him.

He invited Tull to sing it for the group's board of trustees in Boston in April. He also offered to fly Tull and the entire Eddowes family to a national ALS conference in Washington, so she could perform it there in May.

But first, Andy and Ellen Eddowes needed to present the song to Rachel.

One day last month, they sat her down near a CD player and said her father had a gift for her.

Father and daughter both love music, so she figured it was something he had run across online. Soon though, she realized it was a song made especially for her.

"I tried to hold back crying, but I couldn't when I realized it was about me and my dad," she said.

The CD insert had a photo of her as a toddler sharing animal crackers with her smiling, vibrant-looking father. It also included a message from her father to seek strength and comfort from her family.

Rachel gave her father a hug, and soon after sent Tull an e-mail: "Thank you for my song."

"She got it immediately, and at that age I wasn't sure she would," Tull said.

Rachel sums up what the song means to her:

"That my dad loves me very much, and he will always love me, no matter what."

Elizabeth Simpson, (757) 446-2635

elizabeth.simpson@pilotonline.com

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