Chamber music at the beginning of a funeral or memorial service doesn't get any better than this: Tchaikovsky's Andante Cantabile movement from the String Quartet #1 in D Major, Opus 11. "Play this at my funeral," I always say to my husband. Nothing recorded is as successful at capturing life's sweetness, the delicacy of our attachments to one another. The piece opens the doors of the heart, exposing its protected corridors. Can't fail. It's exquisite. Apparently, Tchaikovsky overheard the sorrowful folk melody being whistled by a house painter at his sister's home in Kamenka, Russia. When performed for Leo Tolstoy, the mighty, bearded author is said to have wept like a baby. Thanks to savvy reader Susannah Brooks who suggested I also post Bobby McFerrin's interpretation, which stirs the heart and imagination.