Death - In Real Time - Life
Waking up, I was super excited about the upcoming day. I was “on” even before Leonard made his first morning move and I was quite happy to shake him up and out of bed. I looked at him and he clearly had this half-confused half-frustrated expression on his face, considering that I was not supposed to ruin his deep sleep at 6 am. “Sorry, buddy…” No, I wasn’t ;). “Time’s up, let’s go outside, the sun is already beautiful!” He went out thinking I was following him, but I headed for the shower, laughing by myself. I knew he would find a way to make me pay for my insolence really early the next morning for sure… But hey, it was too hilarious for me to pass on the opportunity for some good old karma to hit that lovely and wonderful little boy directly where it hurts. You have to be cruel to be good… Well, I’ll give it to you, it’s a bit much for me to compare that situation to Hamlet, so let’s just say it was a Shakespearian moment of mine over my boy Leonard.
I was writing my daily journal entry when I looked at my messages on TikTok. Yes, after being asked quite a few times, a lot of “few” times actually, I decided to give it a try. As long as I don’t have to dance and swallow Tide Pods, I figured there wouldn’t be any real danger for me to do so at this point. So, here I am… Anyway, I opened my messages and saw the answer from a very old acquaintance of mine who had contacted me a few days before, asking me if I remembered him, and telling me that he was living at my uncle’s garage when I was rehearsing there with my band at the time, like AGES ago. I barely remembered anyone fitting such a described setup, until I saw one of his pictures and immediately recognized his benevolent smile, throughout the 15-20 years gap. My initial reaction was to ask him if he had seen my uncle and that I had been looking for him for about 18 months or so. I honestly wasn’t expecting to have any news from him, so I didn’t make much of it, besides the fact that I was happy to see him being so alive on his pictures.
That was until I read his message: “Oh man, your uncle died 4 years ago. I’m very sorry you didn’t know.” I think I read the message 25 times before reacting. I froze…paralyzed. He was my father’s youngest brother, a free spirit and a misfit of his own. He was a very significant person to me. I grew up admiring him. He was a man of conviction, who wasn’t walking at anyone else’s rhythm but his. He was a self-made man, a fierce businessman… but one with a huge heart for people in need. I pretty much looked up to him for most of my youth and based my early adult decisions following his footsteps. We even shared a house for quite a while together. It would be an euphemism for me to say that he was part second father, big brother and best friend. So I couldn’t fathom the fact that he could be dead. A man like him had always been eternal, to my admirative eyes. Therefore, I was totally in shock. I was all about “how?” and “when?”, but wouldn’t dare ask more questions. I was stunned and started to cry…
To know that he died alone, that it’s one of his employees who found him at home days later, and that his entourage stole absolutely everything from him as his inert body was lying there while they were taking what he would have given them had they asked… That it’s the state that took care of his cremation and that nobody knew where his remains had been taken to… Do they throw people into the garbage? Those were the most painful elements there was for me to compose with, let alone to accept… Nobody should die alone, especially when there’s at least one person who truly cares about you. I would never wish that to anyone. So many questions were raging and storming inside my head. Why has nobody tried to contact me? It’s not like I’m hard to find. Guilt is a devastating sentiment and that’s what I was stuck with. I accompanied MacKaye almost every day to the vet clinic, to the hospital, to his weekly chemo…for 6 months. I would have taken care of my uncle with the same measure of love, care, and compassion. He wasn’t even 60 years old. It’s absolutely unfathomable to realize that amongst all the members of the Foster side of the family, my father would have been the one who lived the longest; up til 63 years old. Everyone else died between 45 and 60 years old… Cancer, that fucking cancer.
I was looking for him before my surgery. Since I didn’t know if I would make it or not, I wanted to thank him for what he did for me. I owed him more than I had even realized. If my father is highly responsible for my literature and music passion, as well as my profound interest in spirituality, the biggest part of my entrepreneurial and independent nature came directly from my uncle. Therefore, when the reality of that unexpected news sunk in, I felt it wouldn’t take much for me to entirely implode emotionally. How many more punches could I take, I wondered. So I swallowed it up, like I usually do, to focus on the soon-to-be-released project I did with Ben and Momoka, along with the actual ongoing album production. It didn’t last long, as I couldn’t hold my tears. Jeff, who was working right in front of me, looked at me and said: “What’s going on? Are you alright?” I just didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He hugged me for a while. I just needed to get some rest for an instant, to simply be a grieving person, not the leader looking after everything and everyone. It’s not an easy task for me. I rarely allow myself to put a knee on the ground to catch my breath back, especially now as there’s no time for me to stop. So I will have to find a way to slow down somehow, which is also quite a challenge, even If I can hear a choir of caring voices reminding me to be kind to myself.
It’s cruel sometimes to think about how “time” has an implacable way of depriving you of significant moments. It’s so important to embrace life, to defy time’s barbaric essence and its sadistic insensitivity. And if there’s one slightly bright element in all the affective bleaknesses I have to currently manage, it’s the fact that I’m deeply living the album as we are crafting its core. If it hurts more than I can handle, it couldn’t be more real and honest than what it is I’m going through right now.
I was writing my daily journal entry when I looked at my messages on TikTok. Yes, after being asked quite a few times, a lot of “few” times actually, I decided to give it a try. As long as I don’t have to dance and swallow Tide Pods, I figured there wouldn’t be any real danger for me to do so at this point. So, here I am… Anyway, I opened my messages and saw the answer from a very old acquaintance of mine who had contacted me a few days before, asking me if I remembered him, and telling me that he was living at my uncle’s garage when I was rehearsing there with my band at the time, like AGES ago. I barely remembered anyone fitting such a described setup, until I saw one of his pictures and immediately recognized his benevolent smile, throughout the 15-20 years gap. My initial reaction was to ask him if he had seen my uncle and that I had been looking for him for about 18 months or so. I honestly wasn’t expecting to have any news from him, so I didn’t make much of it, besides the fact that I was happy to see him being so alive on his pictures.
That was until I read his message: “Oh man, your uncle died 4 years ago. I’m very sorry you didn’t know.” I think I read the message 25 times before reacting. I froze…paralyzed. He was my father’s youngest brother, a free spirit and a misfit of his own. He was a very significant person to me. I grew up admiring him. He was a man of conviction, who wasn’t walking at anyone else’s rhythm but his. He was a self-made man, a fierce businessman… but one with a huge heart for people in need. I pretty much looked up to him for most of my youth and based my early adult decisions following his footsteps. We even shared a house for quite a while together. It would be an euphemism for me to say that he was part second father, big brother and best friend. So I couldn’t fathom the fact that he could be dead. A man like him had always been eternal, to my admirative eyes. Therefore, I was totally in shock. I was all about “how?” and “when?”, but wouldn’t dare ask more questions. I was stunned and started to cry…
To know that he died alone, that it’s one of his employees who found him at home days later, and that his entourage stole absolutely everything from him as his inert body was lying there while they were taking what he would have given them had they asked… That it’s the state that took care of his cremation and that nobody knew where his remains had been taken to… Do they throw people into the garbage? Those were the most painful elements there was for me to compose with, let alone to accept… Nobody should die alone, especially when there’s at least one person who truly cares about you. I would never wish that to anyone. So many questions were raging and storming inside my head. Why has nobody tried to contact me? It’s not like I’m hard to find. Guilt is a devastating sentiment and that’s what I was stuck with. I accompanied MacKaye almost every day to the vet clinic, to the hospital, to his weekly chemo…for 6 months. I would have taken care of my uncle with the same measure of love, care, and compassion. He wasn’t even 60 years old. It’s absolutely unfathomable to realize that amongst all the members of the Foster side of the family, my father would have been the one who lived the longest; up til 63 years old. Everyone else died between 45 and 60 years old… Cancer, that fucking cancer.
I was looking for him before my surgery. Since I didn’t know if I would make it or not, I wanted to thank him for what he did for me. I owed him more than I had even realized. If my father is highly responsible for my literature and music passion, as well as my profound interest in spirituality, the biggest part of my entrepreneurial and independent nature came directly from my uncle. Therefore, when the reality of that unexpected news sunk in, I felt it wouldn’t take much for me to entirely implode emotionally. How many more punches could I take, I wondered. So I swallowed it up, like I usually do, to focus on the soon-to-be-released project I did with Ben and Momoka, along with the actual ongoing album production. It didn’t last long, as I couldn’t hold my tears. Jeff, who was working right in front of me, looked at me and said: “What’s going on? Are you alright?” I just didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He hugged me for a while. I just needed to get some rest for an instant, to simply be a grieving person, not the leader looking after everything and everyone. It’s not an easy task for me. I rarely allow myself to put a knee on the ground to catch my breath back, especially now as there’s no time for me to stop. So I will have to find a way to slow down somehow, which is also quite a challenge, even If I can hear a choir of caring voices reminding me to be kind to myself.
It’s cruel sometimes to think about how “time” has an implacable way of depriving you of significant moments. It’s so important to embrace life, to defy time’s barbaric essence and its sadistic insensitivity. And if there’s one slightly bright element in all the affective bleaknesses I have to currently manage, it’s the fact that I’m deeply living the album as we are crafting its core. If it hurts more than I can handle, it couldn’t be more real and honest than what it is I’m going through right now.
