My favorite musical is RENT. I remember reading about Jonathan Larson and the tragic story of his death right before the opening of the musicals Broadway debut. I remember when Haley and I went to the local music store owned by a guy in the neighborhood and bought the soundtrack. We started to play it in Haley's bedroom as soon as we got home. The lyrics were a little harsh and I remember being nervous about mom's thoughts on the subject matter: AIDS, drugs, transvestites, gay and straight alike, struggling to live in NYC. But, as soon as mom heard the music, she too, grew to like RENT as well. Mostly because of one song, "seasons of love," the three girls in the family have a soft spot in our hearts for this musical. The key line from this song being, "how do you measure a year in the life..."
A little while ago my dad called me to tell me that his uncle, my great uncle, my grandma's brother had passed away. I've spend the last couple hours debating with myself what to think of his passing and whether or not to blog about it, potentially sticking my foot in my mouth and rocking the familial boat. As is my nature, I opted for foot-in-mouth.
My great uncle, Bevan Chipman, died today, after what was for him, too long of a struggle. Regardless of all of his health problems, I think Bevan died because he didn't want to live anymore. Just as people will themselves to live, I think he willed himself to die. In the end, Bevan didn't particularly care to have his family around him. He preferred his friends and acquaintances from the SLC art community that he so cherished to those that have loved him his entire life. Even though my uncle Paul did everything for him in his last few months of life, I'm sure Bevan didn't say thank you. Even though family was visiting him and calling him as often as possible, he didn't want them around. My aunt LeeAnn said it best when she wrote on her blog that Bevan lived two lives and never wanted the two to mix. I think he was a little mixed up on which life was more important.
My uncle Bevan was many things, but probably would like to be remembered as a painter. In fact, I think he was a pretty well known artist around Salt Lake for his watercolors. The SLC airport even has 5 of his paintings of Sudanese women hanging in one of the concourses. As a child, Bevan would take me and my sister, and my cousins Melanie and Jodi to ballet performances and he always gave us savings bonds as Christmas gifts. In fact, many of those savings bonds are now Elliott's because we used them to start his savings account/college fund a few months ago. Bevan shares the same birthday with my brother Willie and at Christmastime was always remembered in the family gift giving circle by everyone, generally leaving with the biggest haul of festive sweaters and ceramic penguins (one of his collections).
As I got off the phone with my Dad tonight, I started to wonder. I wonder where Bevan's spirit is. I wonder what he is thinking, and who was around to welcome him into heaven. I wonder if he is in heaven and if now he realizes that he ended his life shutting out the one group of people who cared for him the most - his family. In the last year, Bevan missed three weddings and a baby, countless holiday celebrations and family get-togethers. Instead, he sat at home in the dark, heavily medicated feeling sorry for himself.
If there was anyone who seemingly wanted to die, Bevan was one of those people. He was done and went pretty quickly, which was probably best. I hadn't seen him in a year, at least, and never went to visit him during these last few months. And now, knowing that he's gone, I hope and pray that he's where he wants to be.
A little while ago my dad called me to tell me that his uncle, my great uncle, my grandma's brother had passed away. I've spend the last couple hours debating with myself what to think of his passing and whether or not to blog about it, potentially sticking my foot in my mouth and rocking the familial boat. As is my nature, I opted for foot-in-mouth.
My great uncle, Bevan Chipman, died today, after what was for him, too long of a struggle. Regardless of all of his health problems, I think Bevan died because he didn't want to live anymore. Just as people will themselves to live, I think he willed himself to die. In the end, Bevan didn't particularly care to have his family around him. He preferred his friends and acquaintances from the SLC art community that he so cherished to those that have loved him his entire life. Even though my uncle Paul did everything for him in his last few months of life, I'm sure Bevan didn't say thank you. Even though family was visiting him and calling him as often as possible, he didn't want them around. My aunt LeeAnn said it best when she wrote on her blog that Bevan lived two lives and never wanted the two to mix. I think he was a little mixed up on which life was more important.
My uncle Bevan was many things, but probably would like to be remembered as a painter. In fact, I think he was a pretty well known artist around Salt Lake for his watercolors. The SLC airport even has 5 of his paintings of Sudanese women hanging in one of the concourses. As a child, Bevan would take me and my sister, and my cousins Melanie and Jodi to ballet performances and he always gave us savings bonds as Christmas gifts. In fact, many of those savings bonds are now Elliott's because we used them to start his savings account/college fund a few months ago. Bevan shares the same birthday with my brother Willie and at Christmastime was always remembered in the family gift giving circle by everyone, generally leaving with the biggest haul of festive sweaters and ceramic penguins (one of his collections).
As I got off the phone with my Dad tonight, I started to wonder. I wonder where Bevan's spirit is. I wonder what he is thinking, and who was around to welcome him into heaven. I wonder if he is in heaven and if now he realizes that he ended his life shutting out the one group of people who cared for him the most - his family. In the last year, Bevan missed three weddings and a baby, countless holiday celebrations and family get-togethers. Instead, he sat at home in the dark, heavily medicated feeling sorry for himself.
If there was anyone who seemingly wanted to die, Bevan was one of those people. He was done and went pretty quickly, which was probably best. I hadn't seen him in a year, at least, and never went to visit him during these last few months. And now, knowing that he's gone, I hope and pray that he's where he wants to be.
So the song, right? What about the song? I always think about this song, "seasons of love" because it's beautiful and poignant, and gets my heart in a soft little spot. If I've learned nothing else from my great uncle Bevan, I've learned that I want to live, and I want to live a life surrounded by family, and friends, and the values and faith that I love and cherish and I want to embrace every single minute I've got because I have no idea when it will all end.
So, like the RENT song admonishes, I'll measure my life in love!
So, like the RENT song admonishes, I'll measure my life in love!
2 comments:
What an amazing family I have! There is nothing, not anything more important to me than all of you.
Mother Judy
Annie,
I recall Bevan as a discussion at our July book club meeting. I knew at the time that you were perplexed and troubled by his desire to be alone. I sned my prayers out for you and your family as you grieve over the loss of what sounds like a beautiful man. I hope to view his paintings at the airport the next time I have a chance.
Paz~
Tiffany
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