Everything falls apart

A friend asked my sister recently what it was like to lose a parent. She told me she couldn’t find a way to explain it. One of those things when you know you know, I guess. I’m not sure what it’s like for anyone else, but this is how it makes me feel.

In the band I sang for, the Scrams, I had a favorite song, titled “Magma,” (you can listen to it here) which only a couple of people know. Although it didn’t start that way it became a song that expressed how I felt about watching the highs and lows of my mom’s 4 year struggle with cancer, and largely influenced how I think about my life. Some people wonder aloud, blankly stare, or occasionally even gently criticize this perspective, implying that I am being needlessly negative, or that it will pass with time as all things do. They’re right but they’re usually also people who haven’t, can’t, or won’t admit something I think we all know deep down, that our ability to hope is deeply tied to our hopelessness.

Losing my mom is knowing the end is near for all of us. It’s acknowledging my life and it falling apart. I watched the darkest of storm clouds gather and still could not prepare. I know now that we haven’t got a chance, not a one of us, to get out of this thing unscathed, and that hope and joy will constantly trade places with tragedy in each of our lives.

Eleven years ago I was in a production of Waiting for Godot (bit part as the boy sent by Godot to inform he wouldn’t make it that day). The beginning of the play finds Estragon returning to hang out with his pal Vladimir, who asks “May one inquire where His Highness spent the night?” Estragon replies that he spent the night in a ditch and when Vladimir asks if  they beat him he says “Beat me? Certainly they beat me.”

The play has a simple plot, in part because like all good pieces of play-writing it’s structurally designed to communicate the same message as the dialogue: the characters aren’t going anywhere. At the time I was in high school, and a classmate, Manoa Alcantara Jojola, had recently died in a car accident. I still consider him one of the most grounded and passionate people I’ve met, even though I knew him only briefly. I experienced true hopelessness for the first time that year, watching his family and close friends struggle to understand the whys and hows of his leaving this earth. It quietly became a formative experience, and is still a foundation for how I see the world. Does this life beat us? Certainly it beats us. It will again, and we can only accept it patiently, as we also accept the joy when it comes, without questioning. We are not assured of anything…the moment after this one, what comes after we die, or anything in between.

I’ve noticed people often become overly materialistic or reject the world altogether by practicing asceticism. Rarely do we meet people who are fully present in their own lives and with the people around them. My mom was, as Manoa was, one of the few who embraced everything that comes with being human. John Truitt, who taught music at the Academy where Manoa and I were students, said “Manoa had mastered the quality of humanity. His life, so short, had still given him time to be the very best human being to everyone he met. The friendship and love he offered was timeless and perfect. Our memories of him should never become a lifeless shrine, but a beautiful song of the gifts of love and life.” I believe my mom also mastered the quality of humanity. Her gifts to the world are without end. I feel fortunate to have had a close friendship with her, and to give to the world even a fraction of what she provided me. One day at a time I am working towards mastering humanity as they have.

In memory of Tova K. Cardillo 1957-2011

With many thanks to Manoa Alcantara Jojola 1982 – 2000


8 thoughts on “Everything falls apart”

  1. Joe reading through your blog is a very strange experience for me. We have had so many similar experiences (the death of a classmate while young), a death in 2011, an appreciation (or love?) for music and theater …. Seriously, thank you for sharing this so openly. It can’t be easy … but I guess that it’s helpful in your healing process. (It’s also helpful in mine. 🙂 )

    I haven’t started writing about it on my blog yet but in high school I watched as my uncle (who lived with my family) died of lung cancer. I will never forget the entire experience. I’m not sure I really have the words …. It feels so hard to explain. I’m not sure anything was ever in place to really fall apart in my life, it feels like it was always broken. My uncle’s death was the first time I experienced the death of someone so close to me. The death of someone in my immediate family circle.

    I don’t know if it’s maturity now or that I am talking with others more openly … but I totally get that no one survives unscathed. We all bend and break and somehow forge on.

    1. Thanks Amie. It’s interesting that this post is from exactly a year ago. As you can probably relate to, it’s hard to say if I’m better off but I feel like I’m doing the work I need to as a human.

      I used to mostly listen but have shifted my life to include sharing more as well. It seems to help, and since men are typically not encouraged to share their interior life I hope it does a little good in pushing back on the mainstream “simple caveman” tome that many people are eager to embrace.

  2. I think getting up and surviving 365 consecutive days qualifies as something … ‘better’ or ‘worse’ all seems subjective when simply surviving feels like the main goal. (At least that’s how it feels for me.)

    I have a blog post I need to finish and ‘fine-tune’ about what it has meant to me to engage in meaningful conversations with (straight) men about emotions. It’s helping me further my understanding of men …. I can’t ever ‘erase’ the bad experiences from the ones that have hurt me, but it’s progress to see/hear/learn/feel that not all men are ‘bad.’ (And not all straight men are secretly gay :P) I cognitively understood this before … but to actually experience this is completely different. 🙂

    1. Yeah finish it! Sounds interesting. I think it’s part of human nature to unconsciously create universal “truths” based on our own experience. We end up with “I was hurt by a redhead (ginger!) who was from Kentucky so all redheads from Kentucky will hurt me.” Very normal, but still something we have to watch against constantly.

      And you’re right that understanding something is different from experiencing it. For example…I am not an idiot, I understand that applying my past marriage problems to all or even one women I meet isn’t fair, or correct. But it takes actual experience to re-pattern my thinking, which means I have to engage and give people the opportunity to demonstrate the difference.

  3. This is a really great and deep post Joe. I appreciate the path getting here to read it. May I ask when in 2011 you lost your Mom? My mom passed March 31st, 2011

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s