August 9, 2010

The concert in New York was a great success! It was Opera Feroce’s inaugural concert and was met with great praise. The other singers did a fantastic job. I was really proud to be part of such a great group of artists. We had a good turnout and had some “old school” singers come (those who sang during the Golden Age of Opera in the country (40’s, 50’s, 60’s)) and they loved it. This was the comment from our director:

“I witnessed voices come alive through character and music that has become somewhat forgotten these days. But take note that I was not the only one to comment on these things. Not the least of which was an older woman who studied singing along side Jan Pierce and Roberta Peters. She was thrilled to see the old school coming back.”

Congrats to all the singers!


3 years

August 2, 2010

Today marks 3 years since my brother passed away. This day has been looming over me for the past week. It’s not that I have consciously thought, “oh goodness, August 2nd is coming.” It’s more that it has sat under all the layers of other stuff in my mind like a big, dark blob, and I have been more apt to see things that remind me of him.

It’s the first year I haven’t spent with my family. That’s a little odd. I’m in New York. I’m not even with Tim. Last year, my mom said, “I don’t want the only time we get together to be on August 2nd.” I think I may have subconsciously planned to stay here to make sure that didn’t become a tradition. We fly to see my parents in a month over Labor Day.

I don’t write this to get pity. I write it just to share, to make sure that people don’t forget about Chris. His contribution to society was too great. His contribution to me was too great. As the day goes on, I may have some more thoughts to share. I don’t know. Please bear with me. I write so that others may know the journey. So that others who are maybe on the same path can find some encouragement and healing from knowing how my story has gone. I am not an emotional mess (not yet anyway), and I don’t feel any different today than I do any other day. But I do miss my brother. I still pinch myself to see if I’m in a dream. I still wonder if this is my life at times. I mean, this “wasn’t supposed” to happen to me and my family. But it did. That is reality. My deep despair is a faint memory. Sadness overwhelms me at times, but the demon of despair has gone, I suspect, for good.

I love this picture of him. This was taken in August of 2003 in Iraq. Behind him are Babylonian ruins. History was his element, and he is at home here.