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| Hooded figure on the beach by Engin Akyurt via Pexels |
Introduction
Last week was one of the sadder weeks on the celebrity front with the passing of both Dolly Parton and Tim Curry within a day of each other. Both of them were people that were highly respected for numerous reasons. They were worthy of the tributes many posted. And they truly deserved to be memorialized.
So why didn’t I post anything about them? The answer is both simple and very complicated.
My Relationship with Death
As I get older I find my relationship with death changing for several reasons.
The first is the passing of people that don’t get nearly the attention they should have gotten in my opinion. A few examples: Vangelis, Klaus Schulze and Chris Squire. All of these artists deserved a lot more credit, and a lot more attention that they received in my opinion.
Others get the wrong type(s) of attention. For example, when Quincy Jones passed most of the memorials focused on his connection to Michael Jackson. And, while his work with MJ was legendary, Quincy’s career was far more than just his work with Jackson. It was so frustrating to see that I posted the following on Mastodon:
Imagine actually having a career in the #music #business that spans 7(!) decades, and being able to straddle the lines between pop, jazz, r&b and many other styles of music. This man has what should be seen as an incredible legacy.
And yet, some will only know him for his production of Thriller. (sheesh)1
(Note: I fixed the typos in the original post.)
Someone tried to defend the linked AP article by stating that Thriller was the best-selling album of all time. So f***ing what? One album versus a career that spanned seven decades? Surely the AP could have come up with a more appropriate headline.
So, yeah, I’m becoming more of a curmudgeon when it comes to celebrities being memorialized. Especially when true artists are getting totally, or near totally ignored.
Death Has Become Personal
I don’t talk about it much, but the past decade has brought death into focus in my life in a much more personal way than I would like. Not to say that some of it I didn’t know was eventually going to happen, but that doesn’t blunt the sting of it at all.
In June 2016 my father passed of natural causes. I knew it was coming, his health had been in decline for some time. In fact, I had spent the better part of a year making trips up to visit my parents at least once a month. More frequently if my mom told me she needed help with anything.
It still came as a shock. Why? It was, to me, quite sudden. I had adjusted to the idea that my father was going to need long-term care. My mother down-played how serious his health decline had actually become. When I received a call around 6:30am from my mom on that morning, I knew something serious was happening. I didn’t expect to be told my dad had passed in his sleep during the night.
But, the next turn was something I hadn’t expected. My mother had seemed to be doing quite well during my visits and in our regular weekly conversations on the phone. However, after my fathers' funeral it became obvious that she had been hiding the decline in her health.
Nothing made this more evident than the day she went out to run a few errands that should have taken 2-3 hours tops, and didn’t come home for over 6 hours. And when she got home, it was obvious that there had been body work done on her car. Turned out she had sideswiped some construction cones on the road, and had taken her car to the shop to try to hide the damage.
A few months later I had to take a leave of absence from work when my mom needed to go in for surgery for a melanoma on her shoulder. While this could have been a trivial procedure, in her case there were concerns because of (a) her age, and (b) her previous bouts with breast cancer. It was at that point that my sister and I had a conversation and decided it was best for me to move back home to help her.
My mom passed three years later. She was taken by gallbladder cancer that was discovered too late.
After my mom passed, I kept touch with my sister a little more than I had in the past. Not that either of us were in danger of meeting the grim reaper, but because we were the only members left of our family. At least, I thought neither of us were meeting the grim reaper. But just about two years ago my sister was found deceased in her house.
She had sustained a leg injury that had made walking difficult. She had tried several things on her own to ease the pain and start the healing from what she thought was some deep bruising (she had a thyroid condition that contributed to her bruising easily). When that didn’t work, she went and saw a doctor. The doctor recommended that she take some pain meds, and stay off her feet for up to a week, and suggest using a cane when she needed to walk. All of this advice she followed.
Last I talked to her, she had told her manager she was going to take a long weekend based on medical advice. Four or five days later her manager called me when he hadn’t been able to reach her. I tried to reach her as well, and when I couldn’t reach her I called in a wellness check. I found out from the police that she had passed.
She was found sitting on the edge of her bed, apparently unable to get up. Her cellphone was plugged in, charging, in another room, completely out of reach. I never asked, but I assume that she had been stuck there for days, quite a brutal way to pass if you ask me.
It Gets Worse
If that was enough death in my life, there is more. January 2025 my neighbors house burned down. Fortunately, or not, I wasn’t home when it happened. I came home to find my street blocked off by the firefighters as they were struggling to put out the fire. It was so bad that they had to call in the fire departments from two neighboring towns to help with the fire (which is stunning because the house itself is actually quite small).
I learned later that the husband of the couple that owned the house had a heart attack. His wife had called the paramedics and left with them to go to the hospital. Apparently less than an hour after they left the house went up in flames. (Speculation: something had accidentally been left on that started the fire, but I haven’t confirmed that.) The husband died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
While his passing didn’t really affect me directly as they were a couple I only knew in passing, it really started me focusing on the people that I do care about. I decided to start reaching out to a number of them. And that’s when I found out someone had passed I never could have guessed.
A good friend of mine had passed in October 2024, right around the same time I was dealing with the passing of my sister. This was someone that I had a serious connection with. Her father leased to me the house I lived in for five or more years. I spent holidays with her family. I helped her son find some music to inspire him in studying trombone. They were like an extension of my own family to me.
As far as I know, one day she had a migraine and decided to lay down for a nap. She’d had migraines on and off for years, so nothing seemed unusual. She never woke up. Apparently she had a stroke in her sleep and passed away.
To this day I can’t put into words how much her passing hurts. It hurts more that I didn’t hear she’d passed until many months later. Had I known, I would have liked to have been there for her family. I would have liked to be there to pay respects to her one last time. But that can never happen now.
Last Week
This brings us to last week and the passing of Dolly and Tim Curry. Only it doesn’t, because at this time in my life, it can’t be that simple.
Last weekend a friend told me a mutual friend from our college days had been diagnosed with cancer. At that point the doctor wasn’t certain what type of cancer it was. There were several possibilities that it could be one that had a high survivability rate. They had done the tests and were waiting on the results.
Those results came in on Wednesday, in the middle of all the memorials for Dolly and Tim Curry. My friend found out he has the type of cancer that is terminal. The doctor has estimated that he has five months left on this planet. We have plans to visit him as soon as possible, there is no way I can let one more person leave my life without having the chance to say goodbye, and try to do anything I can for them.
In The End
And, in the end, I don’t know what to do with all of this.
Look, there are some deaths that are expected. My parents were at that age. My father was a mild surprise, but I was well-prepared with my mother. My neighbor had reached the age where it was more and more likely to happen. That doesn’t make them any easier, just something that I can rationally understand. I put Dolly and Tim Curry, and many other celebrity deaths in this basket: it’s not necessarily easy, but there their passing can be rationally understood.
Then there’s this other basket. My sister was only a few years older than me (in fact, in a little over a year I will have outlived her). My friend who invited me into her family. She was twenty years younger than me. It doesn’t make sense, she was a strong, community minded person. She was doing good in the world. She had a son, and a spouse. Her parents are still alive. There’s little rationalizing her passing.
Finally, there’s my friend whose has been diagnosed with a terminal cancer. He has so many people that love and cherish him, it’s almost crazy. Honestly, anywhere he goes, he makes friends. He is the kind of person that brought joy into the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of peoples' lives. He is a performer, he is father, he is just simply a good person.
My mother’s needs took away my time to grieve my father’s passing properly. The pandemic took away the chance I had to grieve my mother properly. I don’t think I’ve properly grieved the passing of anyone for over a decade at this point. And now another friend is passing, and I just don’t know what to do with all of this.
I just want to scream at death: TAKE A F***ING VACATION ALREADY!
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