oh, my love, it’s difficult times

06Aug08

Common wisdom states that the death of a child, no matter what that child’s age, is unspeakably hard on a parent. You don’t need a big explanation for that thought — it is obvious, and gut-wrenching to think of. No matter how you live your life, or what your beliefs may be, you cannot deny the natural progression that humans should follow.

You are born, you live, you age, and you die. You outlive your parents. That is how it is supposed to go.

But, what about when it doesn’t go like that?

What about when you don’t get to live for very long? What if you don’t get to grow old, older than your parents, or, older than your grandparents?

What if the doctors tell you that you really only have a good two or three months left in you? That the cancer you’ve been so diligently fighting has taken over. The cancer is everywhere. It is not going away. You are.

John Spalding is leaving us, and far too soon. It isn’t right. His doctors have given him a time frame, a time frame that is unspeakably short and horribly sad to think about.

So, what do you do if, like John, you know you are going to leave this mortal coil?

You have a party. You gather all your friends, and family, and loved ones under one roof. If you are John, the smile on your face never leaves, even when tears overwhelm everyone, including your very own dying self.

If you are John, you have a lot of friends that are in bands, or friends that book shows, or friends that own clubs. If you are John, you have played music with a lot of these folks, or talked about music with a lot of these folks, or just have had a lot of good times with these folks.

Your friends. The people you love, and who love you right back.

Last night, there was a party at the War Room. The invitation made it clear: we would be gathering on Tuesday to hang out and celebrate Life, Love, Friendship and of course, Music. Chad and Marcus, along with John’s family, organized the event, and made sure it was top notch.

The rooftop deck was filled with folks nibbling on lobster macaroni and cheese and decadent desserts. There were flowers everywhere, and more hugs than you can imagine. Downstairs, the stage played host to sets from bands filled with John’s friends.

The Botherations played. Triumph of Lethargy (Skinned Alive To Death) played. The Cave Singers played. Minus the Bear played. That’s all there was room for, even with short sets. There were plenty of others that would have jumped at the chance to sing some songs for their friend.

What is worse? To know you are going to die, or to die unexpectedly? No one likes to think about this. Both options suck. But, it cannot be denied: everyone is dying. You’re not gonna avoid it, no matter what.

And, so, if you are John Spalding, you have a due date. With any luck, that due date is wrong, and there is more time on the clock than you think. But, facts are facts, and cancer doesn’t fuck around. Cancer wins a lot of fights, even after hard-fought battles.

John looked like a million dollars last night. There is an awful lot to say about the healing powers of love.

I’m worried about my dudes. Chad, Marcus, and John have been friends for a really long time. This one hurts. This one leaves a mark. This one makes you question your beliefs, and burst into tears at the very thought of how cruel life can be sometimes.

The War Room was filled with friends. John’s brother, his parents, his grandparents, his family. Old friends, new friends, people you never get to see.

What if you are John, and you have to leave all these people behind?

And, what if, like John, you are married to someone that has loved you, and supported you, and been there with you through all the good and all the bad, and all the happy and all the sad? How do you say goodbye to that person?

How do you leave such a beautiful wife?

There are a lot of things I was going to write about tonight, with this post. There’s a lot to be said, about life and love and death, and everything in between.

There are a lot of things to praise about last night. The stellar music, the warm glow of love and happiness, and the awe inspired by the incredible attitude that John manages to keep, in spite of what the future holds.

There are many observations that bear repeating. The calm and loving way that his wife helps him with an oxygen tank. John’s refusal to stop talking to those he loves, even when his breath is short and words are labored. The soft hurt in the eyes of his brother, the kind embrace from his grandmother.

The love, the laughter, and all those tears that folks had to keep wiping away from their eyes.

I kept it together last night. I didn’t drink much, and I kept an eye on my dudes. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t allow myself to think about this impending loss, and the many losses that have already broken my heart.

But, tonight, right now, looking at these photos, and trying to gather my thoughts…it is too difficult to make it clear through all these tears. Sometimes, all you can do is cry.

………………..

Many of these photos are courtesy of Sarah Joann Murphy, who graciously documented much of the evening, and generously shared her lovely images with the Bonks. You can find the full set here.

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