KaraMaeK

I woke up Thursday morning to a long list of must do’s before leaving the house for a week. That list was set aside as soon as I sat down to enjoy my first cup of coffee. The news of Sinead O’Connor’s passing was not only jarring and unexpected, it sparked the intense need to finally write this out. I’ve been carrying this journey with me for far too long, sharing bits and parts to people in my life over the years, but never fully articulating, even to myself, how my spiderweb of grief over losing my mom, my childhood is connected to an interconnected group of rock stars.

Come with me on a journey.

In 1985, I was gifted my first record. A 45 with one song on it – When Dove’s Cry by Prince. Growing up less than a mile off the Minneapolis boarder in a small first ring suburb, Prince was becoming a local icon. This 45 floated around our playroom for years, we did not take care of it at all. I’d find it in the bottom of the toy box, under my barbie dream house, in a box of books. Every time I’d unearth this piece of vinal, I’d put it on the record player and sing along, noting each and every scratch on the poorly treated record vowing to take better care of it, only to lose it to the depths of the basement playroom months later being used as a table for my playschool little people. I was 6, after all.

1990, Sinead O’Connor breaks onto the music scene with Nothing Compares 2 You. The DJ on the radio keeps playing this song, telling us it’s a Prince song. I’m watching the video on MTv where I see this incredibly beautiful, powerful woman rocking a shaved head. She is so different, so striking. My best friends and I watch her in awe as MTv VJ Kurt Loder talks of O’Connor’s refusal to accept a Grammy and, later, her appearance on SNL where she tore a picture of the Pope to bring awareness to the abuse within the Catholic church. At 11 years old, I’m seeing this incredibly strong woman using her platform to stand up for others.

Christmas, 1991. I’m 12 years old, my brother is 14. Our gift – 4 tickets to see Guns N Roses on the Use Your Illusion tour January 22, 1992 at Target Center. Justin and I had worn out our Use Your Illusion 1 and 2 tapes at least once at this time, and my mom loved the covers of both Live and Let Die by the Wings and Knocking on Heavens Door, by Bob Dylan, another Minnesota music Icon. My dad? He was just a good dad, up for the adventure.

My memories of this concert are strong. We drove, as a family, down to the Target Cetner, which is only 10 minutes from our home but it felt like a hour. We rocked out to the album, my dad driving our minivan, my mom singing with my brother and me on this cold and snowy night. We arrived to the venue in Downtown Minneapolis on time, but Axel Rose did not. He was at the Met Center in Bloomington watching the North Stars play the LA Kings and he was not leaving the game until it ended. That game lasted a full 4 periods ending with a 3 to 3 tie. His show was to start at 7 pm, the opening act, a new band we didn’t know called Soundgarden, did not take the stage until 10 pm. The audience did a good job entertaining themselves – I got my first contact high and saw so many boobs on the big screen, the people watching was off the charts. I cannot even imagine what my mom and dad were thinking as they sat in this arena with their young teens. I would absolutely ask my mom this question if I could.

I had no idea who Soundgarden were before the show but was immediately taken by the lead singers voice, listening intently to each song for the first time. They closed their set with a song I’d been hearing on the radio, Outshined. A song with the lyrics:

Well I just looked in the mirror
And things aren’t looking so good
I’m looking California
And feeling Minnesota

I was done in. Chris Cornell and Soundgarden had captured my heart.

And my crush on Alex Rose took a huge hit, who doesn’t show up to their concert on time? I mean, I am a huge hockey fan and I don’t leave games early, but he went a 7 pm start game when he was to be on stage at 8 pm. He knew what he was doing and even my 12 year old heart started to see him for the over the top rock star he was.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t give up on GNR. I’m a big fan to this day, but Axel man. He’s a train wreck. Give me the mysterious long haired, top hat wearing Slash standing on a ledge, cigarette hanging from his mouth, hair blowing wild, playing a solo any day. Give me Chris Cornell singing about feeling Minnesota and I’ll swoon like a 12 year old girl standing next to her mom at a rock concert.

April 1993, we lost our mom to depression. And my life went from singing to scratched records in the basement, recording my favorite songs on the radio, stretching out many more tapes from playing on repeat over and over, watching videos on MTv while crushing on my teen idols to life without a mom. It was dark for a long time. My childhood was over and I wasn’t even 14.

Healing is not a linear process. Still today at 44, I work through the loss of my mom and my childhood constantly. Music has always been there with me and continues to be. Songs make me feel deeply, in a way that often makes me uncomfortable, in a way that helps me continue to heal.

My love for Alt Rock grew through the 90’s, carrying me through my teen years and into my early 20s. 93.7 introduced me to songs like Interstate Love Song, released by Stone Temple Pilots in 1994 still a staple in my playlist. In 2000 Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park played in my CD player on repeat, keeping me awake on the long drive back from night classes in Inver Grove Heights in the dead of the winter. I knew and still know every word to every song.

December 3. 2015 we lost Scott Weiland, lead vocals for STP. My love for Weiland deepened when he hit the scene with Slash, Duff McKagan, Matt Storum of GNR fame to form Velvet Revolver. Fall to Pieces is a powerful song about loss and the struggle to move forward, a theme of my life.

The loss of Weiland was the beginning of what would become a horrible string of losses to this corner of the music industry, and an unexpectedly important part of my continued healing.

April 21, 2016 – Prince Dies. Minnesota, along with the entire music industry, begins to grieve. Chris Cornell’s 2015 version of Nothing Compares 2 You is released as a tribute to Prince and I’m listening to this and his cover of Patience, by GNR, over and over again on YouTube, I cannot get enough. I’m feeling huge feelings and trying to process many things at one. My anxiety is through the roof and I’m struggling to manage with my normal coping mechanisms. During this period I also took a leap professionally, leaving my comfort zone to take on a new role with a new team. I felt so lonely and out of my depths.

On May 23, 2017 Chris Cornell is found dead. I hear the news on Facebook the next day, mom’s 62nd birthday, and I drop into profound sadness. I’m working in my home office, crying on and off throughout the day. I’m streaming Soundgarden, Temple of the Dog, Audioslave, his solo work, anything to keep hearing his voice. This goes on for days, maybe weeks. No one knows how sad I am, how I am grieving not only Chris Cornell but in many ways, my mom all over again. I’m raw. I’m alone. I’m incredibly sad.

July 27, 2017. Linkin Park is on tour, I’m trying to find someone who wants to see them in concert with me when we hear the news Chester Bennington, has died by suicide in his home. Bennington took at turn at vocals for STP after Weiland was fired in 2013.

This 20 month period from December 2015 through July 2017 felt like a constant onslaught of loss and grieving, the connections to depression were not lost on me, nor were the connections between these musicians. I worked through it by listening to their music and having one sided conversations with my mom. I lived in a state of high anxiety for another year until the passing of my maternal grandfather in May 2018 when the flood gates opened. I cried openly for days, let it all out feeling this tremendous release of grief, guilt, loss, pain.

Now when I listen to music by Weiland, Prince, Cornell, GNR, Bennington, I am brought to a place of peace. Thursday, when I heard the news of O’Conner’s death, I was saddened and moved to finally write this out, but much to my relief I was not pulled down into the deep well of loss and grief. She was a strong woman, and I am too.

As I look back at this string of connections through music and loss what I see is how far I’ve come. How far each of these people carried me through this thing called life.

Check out my Spotify playlist based on this journal entry.