Sincere, heartfelt thanks to everyone for the comforting words, stories and condolences after a long weekend.
The urge to post hit me when I came to the computer briefly to cue up music before cooking Thanksgiving dinner with my Fiance. She's been absolutely stellar!
It was a shocking day. And of course the next two nights I had to gig, perform solo, and try to be the life of the party. The little boy inside me wanted his dad, so I started Friday's gig by taking out a candle, telling my story, encouraging people to be thankful for family, cueing up "home at last" and asking if any dudes had a lighter. Never seen lighters appear so fast. Everyone was incredibly supportive. We laughed many times, and they even cheered me on the one time I choked up ("fire and rain" during the words 'sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground').
I did the candle thing at Friday and Saturday's gigs, and the stories came pouring out -- a father died in his son's arms, daddy's girl went mute with sorrow. Stories of those who left, and stories of those who refuse to go: a grandmother riddled and crippled with cancer and still cooking for family nearly a year after predicted death; a 7-heart attack, 3-stroke, drunk-literally-to-death father who keeps coming back to finish unfinished business.
I've written enough already, but if you could indulge me, there's one story I'd like to share in detail:
This is Anthony's $20 bill.
Saturday, Nov 26, after I dedicated "wish you were here" to my dad, Anthony put it in my tip jar and told me his story:
He carried this bill a long time. It was there through his divorce, and waiting in his wallet after prison. His son Adam also carried it. It was in his wallet nine years ago when he died in a motorcycle accident. For the last nine years Anthony has given away, one by one, the bills from his son's wallet. This was the last one...the one with the crease over "reserve" that he never flattened...the one he couldn't let go of.
Stunned, the only words I could get out were "wow..." and "thanks!" I had no idea what to sing next, so out of thin air I chose "only wanna be with you" by Hootie & the Blowfish. I looked over during the song to see Anthony, a stone-faced, leather-clad biker, staring into the distance, his fists wiping away tears.
When I finished, he came to the stage again with another story: His son was in a band, and that song just happened to be the last one he ever heard Adam sing.
A father lets go; a son must now do the same; and some things are meant to happen.
