ONE LAST SONG, ONE FINAL SALUTE: As the chapel filled with soft light and solemn faces, Rhonda Vincent stepped forward, her mandolin cradled close, her eyes shimmering with emotion. The room fell completely still. Jeannie Seely — her friend, her mentor, her musical sister — lay surrounded by lilies and silence.
The light filtering through the stained-glass windows was soft, almost golden, as if heaven itself had dimmed its glow in…