When somebody you love dies it’s easy to find yourself in a mindset where it feels as though it’s something that’s happening to you. When it hits twice in fairly quick succession, you can really start to feel put-upon. It’s important to remember how big our social networks are; how many people share the feelings of loss, and how well supported you are, if you’re willing to accept the support.
This spring we’ve had some opportunities to practice grieving, and to get a bit better at giving and taking support. Over the course of the spring, both Amy’s father, Dennis Hollingsworth, and my brother, Ezra Caldwell, died of cancer. Neither death was a great surprise, and in both cases the end-game played-out in the way that we think of as best; lots of family around, and good pain management. We’ve known that these losses were coming. It was a matter of when, not if. But preparation doesn’t seem to lessen the emptiness associated with loss.
Amy’s father, Dennis, was a paragon of good humor. He’s one of those rare people who everybody likes in a simple and unqualified way. You won’t find anybody on the planet with a disparaging word to say about Dennis Hollingsworth. Gunnar has one certain smile where the shape of his mouth is a clear reproduction of Dennis – I’ve seen it every day since the kid was born. And while Gunnar makes up the stupidest jokes on the planet, his genuine appreciation of humor comes directly from his grandfather. Dennis will be missed, and remembered fondly every day.
My brother, Ezra, was a cross between a shooting star and a hurricane. He was a brilliant artist and fabricator who built stunning hand-made bikes. He was a gifted photographer and a creative and accomplished chef. At my very best, Ezra was still irritatingly faster moving and faster thinking than me. I perversely enjoyed the last six months of his life as the mix of likely brain tumors and heavy doses of narcotics slowed him down enough so that I could sometimes sneak ahead of his thought process.
In early June we attended two funerals in one week. Amy and I both spoke at a funeral. She joined her siblings with a series of memories of their father. Amy talked about her childhood; family trips, adventures and misadventures; all recalled with the humor than Dennis brought to them. I talked about Ezra’s outsized personality and the astonishing amount of energy he seemed to channel from some unknown source.
Ezra’s service was punctuated by an amazing collection of musicians – some of my very favorites – all of whom were close friends with Ez and the rest of the family. I’ve included links below to some of the songs that were played. I’ve listened to these, and a few more of Ezra’s favorites, quite a lot in the last weeks, and they make me deliciously sad and nostalgiac. You don’t have to listen to them, but if you do, please think a bit of somebody you miss and enjoy a small dose of grief. We don’t often give ourselves enough time to appreciate loss.
The funeral week was hard, but it was valuable, and I think I understand a little more about the purpose of a memorial service. We went into the week feeling that we had already been through the wringer – a bit sorry for ourselves, and somewhat bitter about dealing with all the travel and people. At both services it was remarkable to see how many people were touched by the lives of Amy’s father and my brother. It was evident that their deaths had “happened to” many more people than just us. We spent time with Amy’s mom, who was alone after close to fifty years of marriage. We saw Ezra’s wife Hillary – a widow at 30 – organize the service for the man she married shortly after his first diagnosis and treatment. We connected with family who were all touched in ways we wouldn’t necessarily have predicted, no matter how well we knew them. And we received the well-wishes and support of people who only knew of us because of what we meant to our loved ones.
We returned home to a summer that was both brighter, and a bit emptier than it had been before. For the past month we’ve been laying pretty low, and having a hell of a good time. We haven’t worried too much about skis or grinding, and we’ve left a whole lot of emails and calls unanswered. But we’re doing great. It’s blueberry season and bike riding season. We’ve got some new parts installed on the grinder, and we’ve got skis to work on when we get to them. We’re about ready to get back to the real world, and we realize how lucky we are. Lucky to have enjoyed such amazing family. Lucky to have been able to take some time to mourn their passing. Lucky to be getting back to work we love with more than half the summer still ahead of us.
Thanks, as always, to all of you who make it possible for us to enjoy such a good life. I think we’ll appreciate it appropriately for at least a little while.
Sam Amidon grew up right down the road in Brattleboro, and is my brother Thomas Bartlett’s best pal and musical collaborator from childhood. Sam played All Is Well early in the service.
Dawn Landes is a NYC-based musician who has become good friends with my family living down there. My brother Thomas co-produced Dawn’s latest album with her, and she played this song from the album at the service.
Steve Sallet is another NYC-based musician with whom Thomas has collaborated, most recently on a project titled The Poison Tree. This is the opening track from that album, and Steve played it at the service. When I grind skis with headphones on I always listen to this album early in the day, and getting to know Steve a bit makes it even better. A couple of years ago Steve’s wife was diagnosed with cancer, and she died shortly after, leaving him an only father of two young girls. He’s been working on a new album with Thomas. I can’t wait to hear it, and I was really touched by his performance at Ezra’s service.
song of good hope in rome from Fast Boy on Vimeo.
Glen Hansard is an Irish musician who got quite famous after the release of the movie Once in 2007, in which he starred. At some point Glen met Ezra through Thomas, and they became really tight friends. Glen played at Ezra and Hillary’s wedding, and at some point he wrote Song Of Good Hope for Ezra. He played it at the service, and although I had heard it before, it was breathtaking; as though it had been waiting for the occasion.
Last year at about this time Glen took Ez and Hillary on tour with him in Europe. Ezra shot this video at a concert in Rome on that trip. This was more than half a year after he had been diagnosed with his second recurrence, with metastases in his liver and lungs, and declined treatment.
After that trip to Europe, Ezra made one more trip out of New York City, when he came up to Vermont in August. During that trip we built a bike trail behind our house, which Ez documented in this video: http://vimeo.com/71860537. This spring, when Amy and I went out to inspect the trails, we found that the tree that Ezra had hit on his bike in the video was broken, right where he hit it. Last week it came down, and now the trail has a new feature – you have to duck under the tree.