Editors Note: Below is a thing that I submitted to Nick Cave's Red Hand Files. The pictures below are two chap books that John made a few years ago and a sticker that he made back in the 90s.
A dear friend of mine recently passed from a sudden and rapid case of untreatable liver cancer.
My friend, John, was one of those people that we all need in our lives that help to show us the way. He just knew stuff. He was the one that sparked my interest in literature, philosophy and music.
Decades ago when I was a clueless teenager still trying to find my way in the world, John would pick me up and we would go around town hitting used book and record stores for the day. This was back when Pittsburgh was filled with inexpensive used stores and you could build a library or a collection for a few dollars.
I would aimlessly wander the store shelves, not knowing what I was looking at and every so often John would stick a book in my hands and say “You need this.” All these years later, I can say without a doubt that I really needed those books. I was looking for a way to navigate through my day to day life and the world around me. The books and records that John shared with me helped light the path that I needed to walk down.
Between the mix tapes he would hand me and the epic listening sessions that took place when we hung out, John taught me that certain types of music had an indescribable quality. That unexplainable thing that can’t be put into words but we know it when we hear it. He was able to spot that quality from miles away.
He introduced me to your work around 1997, when I was in my late teens. I would like to say that I had been a fan ever since but it was at a time when my brain wasn’t ready for it. I was too young, angry and clueless at the time and couldn’t get to it. Over the years, I needed to put the work in for personal growth and do the reading that goes along with it. One day it just clicked and I suddenly got it. John knew where I needed to go and was able to leave a trail of bread crumbs for me to follow.
John spent a few weeks in the hospital awaiting his eventual prognosis and all he wanted to do was go back home to his cats and his records. Once it was made clear that his writing was on the wall and that he did not have long, he was sent home to be made comfortable.
After he was home and settled, I stopped in for a visit. His mother, who was serving as his caretaker, couldn’t figure out how to get the turntable working and had more pressing matters to attend to so I went to work and got it spinning for one last listening session.
Between the pain meds and his body shutting down, the only times John would perk up would be to call out the next record and then his eyes would immediately close. The first record he wanted to listen to was Idiot Prayer: Alone At Alexandra Palace. My usual stoicism in the face of disaster held until the first of your piano notes. I went outside and wept. The weight of the situation was too much to bear.
I followed Idiot Prayer up with John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme which seemed to have made his day. His reactions were filled with gratitude and relief at being able to experience a room full of music one more time. I’m glad I was able to give him this as one final gift.
When I stopped in the following week, it was a very different story. John’s once brilliant mind had betrayed him to the point where he was almost nonverbal. Any time he needed something his mother and I had to guess at what it might have been.
He was awake long enough for me to help him shift his weight in the rented hospital bed and he refused to let go of my hand once he was comfortable. That’s when I knew part of him was still there. It was about five minutes before his grip loosened and he drifted back to sleep.
While I was there, I was able to give his mother a much needed break and give her an opportunity to visit with a few neighbors that stopped in with plates of food and words of encouragement. This was on November 28, 2024 and it was the last time I saw him. John went peacefully in his sleep on the morning of Monday December 2, 2024.From what I have read of the Red Hand Files, there is way too much of this going around. I can only imagine how many more messages you receive about loss and grief that us readers don’t see. And my apologies for adding to the pile.
This is the second time in two years that a friend that I loved has passed and a few others have had their own close run-ins during that time. I’m getting tired of feeling this way but since everyone I know is heading toward middle age I guess I better get used to it. The options are limited so I will start to cherish the moments we’re all together and try to make those moments happen more often for myself. My antisocial tendencies be damned.
When faced with uncertainty and grief, I write. I write because I don’t know what else to do with myself and, for the moment, I’m all out of tears. And writing isn’t as messy.
I might have to put your records back on the shelf for a while until I can get a handle on the grief but I know they’ll be there for me when I’m ready. Thank you for everything.
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