Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. . .

THS Afterhours returns to the internet -- for how long, who knows? And here's what restarted it all.

Now if you're taking Honors English IV, you'll notice that there's a lot of death and grieving involved in the works we cover. (The overall subject of the course is Love, but there's a lot of death and grieving: the three are not unconnected.) We start right off with "Vincent Black Lightning 1952", and then, bang -- right into the "mortality paradox".

Kate McGarrigle died on January 18, 2010. I did not hear about it at the time. She was slightly famous, but not a celebrity. She was only 63.


Kate was part of a very musical family. She performed and recorded with her sister, Anne. Her son, Rufus, has recorded five albums and just recently completed his first opera! Her daughter, Martha, has recorded four albums, (the last covering the songs of the Little Sparrow, Edith Piaf), and four EPS. One of them, Bloody Mother F***** A *****, was dedicated to her father, Loudon Wainwright III, himself an accomplished singer and actor. (Here's part of the reason, maybe -- a song called "Hitting You".) Loudon's daughter from his second marriage (to Suzzy Roche, of the Roches -- Suzzy and her two sisters), is Lucy Wainwright Roche. Loudon's sister, Sloan Wainwright, has recorded seven albums. I may be missing one or two, but you get the point. It's a musical family.

I came across this article, from the Times of London, in which Rufus and Martha describe their recent loss. I was touched, and thought it was worth sharing.

Here are a few selections.

Rufus Wainwright

I’m in the throes of grief, which encapsulates every aspect of human behaviour. I feel extreme glee and extreme happiness mixed with fear, and I’m reconfiguring the order of things. It’s fascinating if you’re close to your mother and if she dies it’s such a kind of statement from the Universe: “You thought she was in control? Just you wait and see who’s really pulling the strings.” It’s a pretty hard time, but my family and I have come together and experienced the end of Kate’s incredible life. .

She seemed so happy: she was going to put the situation out of her mind and drink up the world to her fullest. She travelled back and forth to Europe, she saw my and Martha’s shows, she went on a grand tour of the world, she swam in lakes in the country. She was a true individual, unique.

Once the disease started to take over she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t change herself at all, but she did — in a subtle and mystical way — prepare for her death. She made it private. She was in a coma for two days before she died, with us but she couldn’t speak. Before she went into the coma, the last thing she said to me was: “Have a beautiful summer in Montauk,” where I had just bought a house. She told me not to cry and of course I cried. I’m still crying. I think I’ll cry every day for the rest of my life. . .

My parents loved each other very much, but along with that came a fierce love of music and when you mix those two, things can get pretty explosive. They had to ride the waves of showbusiness simultaneously, and when Martha and I joined them the waves got choppy. It was a bumpy ride, but a glorious, noteworthy voyage. The good thing was they really had a chance to settle their differences. Before Kate’s health went south my dad performed in Montreal and invited her on stage. Afterwards he told her how amazing it was to sing with her again. They made it back together, as parents of their children.

Everybody’s shook up. We’re all very devastated, but on the other hand it’s been a great trip. Now I am dealing with the repercussions. Artistically I sought my mother’s opinions about the plethora of options in creating a work of art, and when she was getting iller I had to control myself so as not to become too demanding of her. I’ve started writing something about her and I’ve found myself instantly filled with her support and encouragement. Whenever I need her she will appear. To anyone else going through this, I’d say if you need to invoke your loved one, write about them and they’ll be there.

Martha

Kate, Rufus and I saw ourselves as the three musketeers. She played a huge role in our formation and had a very hands-on approach whether we liked it or not. She had incredibly good taste and made sure we did too. She made us into the musicians we are, and influenced the music that we loved. I cooked what she did. I wore the clothes she wore. We were the same size. As a young woman I tried to distance myself from my mother. I was overwhelmed by her beauty and talent. I tried to play the independent girl. But I always came back, needing her cash, her assistance, her suggestion. In the last five years I totally gave in and realised I needed to be with her all the time.

Anna

Last summer, one evening, she turned to me and said: “How come no one will talk to me about dying?” We broke down on the couch together. Last week I asked her as she lay there what her deepest fears were and she said to me: “I’m not thinking about anything.” She was putting all the bad stuff out of her mind. Kate had spent the last year and a half lying on the couch speaking to friends by phone. A friend once went round and said “Kate you don’t have to answer the phone”, and she said, “Every call is important”.

The breakdown of Kate’s marriage to Loudon was significant — she often said that she took to her career as a reaction to it. It was hard for two musicians married, working as musicians, although she found happiness with Pat Donaldson [the bass guitarist] later.

Kate was one of the finest songwriters: her soul told her hands what to do. The song she wrote for Martha, which she performed at the Albert Hall, Proserpina, makes me cry. It’s amazing. For me, she’ll always be a contradiction: the widely read sophisticate who loved mixing with the high-end crowd with Rufus, and the rustic character, never happier than when riding an old bike, or cross-country skiing or knitting Scandinavian sweaters.

The video of Proserpina was recorded about six weeks before Kate died.

So many people in this world are into destruction. I admire those who create.