The world’s best drummer

For the past few days, I’ve known I would be making this post. I knew, and I’ve dreaded it because the mere fact I am sitting here writing this means we have lost a very special person.

Ken and I went to school together, so many moons ago, in both elementary and middle schools. Ya know, back when we rode dinosaurs instead of school buses. As happens more often than not, at least for me, when I changed schools at the end of seventh grade, we didn’t keep in touch. This is in no way his fault, but mine; I have never been very good with the socializing/friendship thing, and have lost contact with many people I once considered friends.

Fast forward to September 14, 2012…

I have this friend who I considered the go-to guy for all things related to the local music scene, and he kept telling me there was this band, Superjam, I just HAD to see. On that particular night, this amazingly awesome band happened to be playing at a nearby bar, so I talked a friend into going with me. Usually, I let her pick what we did and where we went since, as I’ve already stated, being social is unfamiliar territory. While we were having dinner, the band members came in to start setting up, including this one guy I hadn’t seen since 1985!

While he was finishing checking his gear and talking to some friends, I struggled with whether I should say “hi” or just sit there. Eventually, the shock wore off, and I went over for the next surprise of the evening: he actually remembered me. Please understand, I have always done my best to be as memorable as dirt, and here was proof, in my mind, that there was yet another thing to which I’ve failed.

We joked around a bit, exchanging the normal Clif’s Notes versions of our lives, until it was time for the show to start. Which, by the way, was one of the best I’ve ever seen.

When they went on break, Ken and I had a chance to talk a little more, and he told me about his cancer diagnosis and the prognosis. That was a serious gut punch. I then told him about my mom, and that it was her second bout with colo-rectal cancer which claimed her life, but there’s been major advances in treatment since she died in 2000, and he’d be just fine. :-)

For almost a year, I caught a few more shows, and each time we played catch-up regarding his treatment and my writing. The last time was in the summer of 2013, when he told me the cancer had spread. Unfortunately, I really don’t remember much of our conversation after that because, suddenly, I was back in the doctor’s office with Mom when we were told there wasn’t anything more that could be done.

Since that night, I attempted to maintain our friendship by “liking” his posts on Facebook and commenting here and there; I couldn’t do the face-to-face thing. I simply couldn’t watch how the cancer affected him. But I also couldn’t completely run and hide because that would be worse. I was a coward. No other way to put it. COWARD!

But Ken wasn’t.

He continued to laugh and joke and play drums like the madman he had always been. He never failed to have a smile for everyone he met, and an endless supply of sweaty hugs, even after he announced a few months ago he would no longer be playing out. And he also married the love of his life. On my birthday! I know, I know… But it’s still a day I should be able to remember, right?

 

 

I don’t know Linda, but she made Ken so very happy; that was extremely evident, even on Facebook. They were everything to each other, and had a love to rival anything any writer could ever create or that Hollywood could attempt to put in a film. Face it, it’s rare to find your best friend, confidant, lover, and soul mate, and even rarer for one person to be all of these things.

It’s only been five days since I saw Linda’s post saying Ken was in the hospital. And every one of those five days had me hoping against all hope that this wasn’t the end. Not just me, though, but based on the posts on his wall, it looked as if all of the St Louis area felt exactly the same.

We lost a good man this morning. Someone who has left a gapping hole in the lives of everyone he has ever met. My heart breaks for Linda, who has lost her heart, and also for Maddie, and Mitchell, who have lost one of the best Dad’s to ever walk the earth.

Much love and healing thoughts to each of you.

 

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F*uck Cancer – Because we all feel this way about “The Big C”.

American Cancer Society – Because we still have a long way to go to find a cure.