Bittersweet Symphony

I was so excited, looking forward to last night. Seeing “Barenaked Ladies” at the Fox Theater on New Years Eve. Surely a highlight for any fan and I consider myself a big one. I was thinking that I could never find a more perfect ending to what, for me, had been one of the most difficult years of my life. I was able to leave work early, get home to take care of the dog and get ready for the drive down to Detroit and an evening of pure delight.

I was meeting my friends down at one of their houses in Southfield and as I was turning onto his street my phone started ringing. I looked and saw it was my brother Steve. I actually debated whether to answer or not. When I picked up he sounded down and said he wanted to give me an update. I figured he was talking about his dog, Schooner, who’d been diagnosed with cancer last week. As I pulled into my friend Mark’s driveway Steve said that he had liver cancer.

I parked the car and we talked for a bit and he said that the Doctors told him that he’d be going onto a transplant list. He said he was a good candidate for it and they were confident they could get him one. He also said that if they couldn’t find one, in a certain period of time, he’d have to start chemo. He told me he talked to mom already and didn’t really want to deal with the kind of calls he would receive from the other siblings and Dad right then so he called me because he knew I wouldn’t do the freak out thing or pepper him with all the questions that are always asked and never answered until time has passed.

I told him I would take care of it and would tell them that he was out for the evening and left his phone at home so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. (Sorry Karen). We agreed that I would tell Dad and David tomorrow and I would call Karen right after I hung up with him. We chatted a little more and made a few jokes about it and we laughed. It was good to laugh.

We laughed because that’s what I do. We laughed because, I sincerely believe, that’s why Steve called me and expected. It wasn’t a strong belly laugh, I know that will come after an adjustment period, but it was a laugh. We laughed because we didn’t want to cry and we both knew that the tears would come soon enough. We laughed because, well, what else do you do?

We hung up and I was ok so I called Karen, she’s up at her cottage, and I told her. I also told her the lie about Steve being out for the evening and told her that Steve had already talked to Mom. We both thought it important that one of us call her and I told Karen that I couldn’t do it right then. Not because I was busy but I just didn’t have the strength for it. She knew what I meant and said she’d do it. I turned off the car and headed up to Mark’s door.

I knocked once and opened the door. As I was closing it Mark walked into the room and said hey or some type of greeting. I said the same and held up one finger in a “hold up a second” kind of gesture. He thought I was going to say something inane I’m sure but I said this was serious. I told him about the call I just hung up from. I was starting to feel weak in the knees and bent down a little, grabbing them to keep myself steady. Mark gave me the space I needed and I told him I would be ok; I just needed to catch my breath. Mark’s known Steve since he was 12 so I know this wasn’t easy news for him either. We proceeded into the den and started deciding where we were all going to go for dinner before the concert.

We decided that Greek Town would be a good choice and piled into Mark’s car to head downtown. We enjoyed a nice dinner and talked a lot. They were both very kind and let me talk some about the evening’s earlier events. That’s what friends do and they’re both good friends. After dinner we walked over to the Fox and got our seats.

I loved the concert, I truly enjoy these guys and wrote about the last time I saw them while I was in Florida. I did a pretty good job of holding it together and was able to get into the show. I’ve talked to a couple friends today and tried to explain this but I just felt the absolute need to scream, I needed the release. The band is not what one would consider a hard rock type outfit but they have a few songs that hit the level I was seeking. Sometimes they play them and sometimes they don’t.

One of the songs that do provide the release I so badly needed is called “The Old Apartment”. I sang pretty much every song they played but when this one started I couldn’t scream the words loud enough. It was loud, it was noisy and it was exactly what I needed. In the last verse of the song, when Steven Page screams the line “Tore the phone out of the wall”, I was right with him. It was like a huge breath that had been waiting the entire evening for an exhale, was finally able to find it’s happy place. I started to cry a bit and had to take off my glasses to wipe my eyes. The rest of the show was like a breathing exercise. I would find myself losing it a little every now and then and would wipe my eyes and continue my singing along with the boys. It truly was the therapy I knew I’d receive the minute Steve got off the phone with me.

I truly don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have the concert to go to after hearing the news. You’re always told to be with friends and family in times of crisis and seeing the band, to me at least, was just like being with old friends. So thanks to Steven, Ed, Tyler, Jim and Kevin. Sounds kind of weird to say but I don’t know if I could have made it through the night without you. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d have rather been than with you guys at the end of what has certainly become the worst year I’ve ever been through.

After the show we drove back to Mark’s house and I picked up my car. I had to stop a few times on the way home for the tears to go away but the drive was another thing I think I really needed. I’ve talked to a few friends and gotten a few well wishing messages from others. I need to let you all know that I truly do appreciate the sentiments. I really do love you all and treasure your friendships during this ridiculously confusing time.