John Kreckler, my Broadway Show Constant Companion
Can someone tell me how to move on from the grief I've had since learning about John's death? He was found dead in his home, after cops got into his apartment when family members were worrying about unanswered phone calls, as well as unexplained absence from his work.
The service held less than a week after John died was well attended by his grieving family members, loved ones, and friends. He was not there anymore, not even his body. John's body must have been cremated following his preference which I also heard from him in one of our talks when he was still around. No ashes but there were floral arrangements. I didn't ask for details about his suicide nor about other details during the service from his sisters nor his father; it was one of the most awkward way of meeting up people the first time (though I have heard a lot about certain people in the room from John himself). I read about the suicide from another posting in other blogs. His Father, whom I got to talk with during that day when he was found dead could not confirm right away the circumstances of his death-whether it's an overdose of drugs, or another. I felt I received one of John's last gifts to me, as I got inexplicably relieved after I shared my thoughts out before those gathered, which I've never done before (even during my Father's wake).
I had the pleasure of knowing John for over 2 years; I remember having greeted him on his birthday 3 times. The last time I greeted him on his birthday was on May 29th. He didn't respond even after several days; I didn't inquire back why he had not done so as I thought he wanted space or maybe some time to be by himself as he must have been much loaded with work lately. I last saw him the Saturday after the Children's Chorus concert event of which I was not able to watch.
That Saturday, he treated me for a movie: "Angels and Demons," (being grateful for my being his companion when he went out on a recent tooth-related operation) and went out for dinner and a bar later in the evening. We covered, as usual, in that evening's conversation our favorite topics about life, living, loving, career, religion, relationships, family, art, culture, politics, music, broadway, among others. He expressed his distress over the possibility of losing his job due mainly to budgetary constraints, and the idea of having to do certain assignments at work which he disliked doing (in the first place). He was actually expressing his readiness to be out of work, again, and be among the unemployed during this economic downturn period. He said he had enough savings to last him over a year of not working, and look forward to some changes in career directions he'd thought of pursuing. He was looking forward to his trip to Italy with his sisters; and I remember him also sharing a remark from his nephew being "proud of his Uncle having led a complete life."
I will always remember him as a very good friend that he was to me. He's one of the few Americans I've met here in NYC that has made me comfortable with my being an immigrant in a city as diverse as NYC. He himself was a long term transplant from the Midwest (Wisconsin), of which he was proud of, of which he had not unlearned his accent as he would patiently point out to me (without unwittingly embarrassing tyros like myself then) how words are expressed or used in context so as help me flow ceaselessly with the numberless people who've crowded NYC. Although highly educated, he was not overbearing in emphasizing nor showing the knowledge and credentials he's had. He's an accomplished musician/composer, a pioneering artist who's able to team up and work effectively well with other artists (Locrian Chamber Players). A product of Juilliard School of Music, John was unable to have me listen to his compositions as he said "I'm done with them," and perhaps apprehensive I may blurt out my usual outspoken opinions before someone like him who knows music that well, so we always had to postpone the chance for me to listen to his music.
I write this now mainly for myself, more than anyone else, just to assuage whatever guilt feelings I have over his untimely death. I've listened to "Spring Awakening's" soundtracks, which eerily echo out to me now how someone would choose to die out of one's personal choice. We saw that musical together on Broadway, and must have listened to its soundtrack at least 30 times (mostly in his apartment). I now understand the meaning behind his fascination, more than the usual interest he pored on the lyrics of particular songs in the musical. This musical featured a suicide towards the end, an idea that could have implanted an approach, a way of dying in John's mind that he would unfortunately, fatally consider. He was certainly "Totally F*cked" (just like that song in "Spring Awakening") during the last days of his life; I noted the absence of his boss during the wake. They were working together on the budget of their group, when John saw things not working to his own liking (for some unknown, unclear reasons). The thought that John would be losing his job again in a matter of less than 2 years of doing a job that he learned to love as his projects were creating positive impact on disadvantaged schoolchildren in NYC must have brought a lot of personal pain in him. This, I think, could have prompted his fatal action.
Wherever he is now, I know he'll be smiling and laughing aloud if he gets to read this posting. He had such loud recognizable guffaws, such that friends would could tell by the pitch and mirth his laughter would sound in an enclosed huge space, like the laughter heard by one who knew him, and who was performing on stage, and thought John was among the audience. And indeed he was. Once during a Broadway show, as we were seated somewhere up in the box seats, we laughed so loud while watching the funny show; our seatmates got annoyed and distracted, and would be giving us side glances with irritated looks. But with John around, I know I'd be OK and we both could be playfully irreverent and having fun with ourselves watching shows. We kept to our seats, and remained undaunted and just went on enjoying the show until the end.
The service held less than a week after John died was well attended by his grieving family members, loved ones, and friends. He was not there anymore, not even his body. John's body must have been cremated following his preference which I also heard from him in one of our talks when he was still around. No ashes but there were floral arrangements. I didn't ask for details about his suicide nor about other details during the service from his sisters nor his father; it was one of the most awkward way of meeting up people the first time (though I have heard a lot about certain people in the room from John himself). I read about the suicide from another posting in other blogs. His Father, whom I got to talk with during that day when he was found dead could not confirm right away the circumstances of his death-whether it's an overdose of drugs, or another. I felt I received one of John's last gifts to me, as I got inexplicably relieved after I shared my thoughts out before those gathered, which I've never done before (even during my Father's wake).
I had the pleasure of knowing John for over 2 years; I remember having greeted him on his birthday 3 times. The last time I greeted him on his birthday was on May 29th. He didn't respond even after several days; I didn't inquire back why he had not done so as I thought he wanted space or maybe some time to be by himself as he must have been much loaded with work lately. I last saw him the Saturday after the Children's Chorus concert event of which I was not able to watch.
That Saturday, he treated me for a movie: "Angels and Demons," (being grateful for my being his companion when he went out on a recent tooth-related operation) and went out for dinner and a bar later in the evening. We covered, as usual, in that evening's conversation our favorite topics about life, living, loving, career, religion, relationships, family, art, culture, politics, music, broadway, among others. He expressed his distress over the possibility of losing his job due mainly to budgetary constraints, and the idea of having to do certain assignments at work which he disliked doing (in the first place). He was actually expressing his readiness to be out of work, again, and be among the unemployed during this economic downturn period. He said he had enough savings to last him over a year of not working, and look forward to some changes in career directions he'd thought of pursuing. He was looking forward to his trip to Italy with his sisters; and I remember him also sharing a remark from his nephew being "proud of his Uncle having led a complete life."
I will always remember him as a very good friend that he was to me. He's one of the few Americans I've met here in NYC that has made me comfortable with my being an immigrant in a city as diverse as NYC. He himself was a long term transplant from the Midwest (Wisconsin), of which he was proud of, of which he had not unlearned his accent as he would patiently point out to me (without unwittingly embarrassing tyros like myself then) how words are expressed or used in context so as help me flow ceaselessly with the numberless people who've crowded NYC. Although highly educated, he was not overbearing in emphasizing nor showing the knowledge and credentials he's had. He's an accomplished musician/composer, a pioneering artist who's able to team up and work effectively well with other artists (Locrian Chamber Players). A product of Juilliard School of Music, John was unable to have me listen to his compositions as he said "I'm done with them," and perhaps apprehensive I may blurt out my usual outspoken opinions before someone like him who knows music that well, so we always had to postpone the chance for me to listen to his music.
I write this now mainly for myself, more than anyone else, just to assuage whatever guilt feelings I have over his untimely death. I've listened to "Spring Awakening's" soundtracks, which eerily echo out to me now how someone would choose to die out of one's personal choice. We saw that musical together on Broadway, and must have listened to its soundtrack at least 30 times (mostly in his apartment). I now understand the meaning behind his fascination, more than the usual interest he pored on the lyrics of particular songs in the musical. This musical featured a suicide towards the end, an idea that could have implanted an approach, a way of dying in John's mind that he would unfortunately, fatally consider. He was certainly "Totally F*cked" (just like that song in "Spring Awakening") during the last days of his life; I noted the absence of his boss during the wake. They were working together on the budget of their group, when John saw things not working to his own liking (for some unknown, unclear reasons). The thought that John would be losing his job again in a matter of less than 2 years of doing a job that he learned to love as his projects were creating positive impact on disadvantaged schoolchildren in NYC must have brought a lot of personal pain in him. This, I think, could have prompted his fatal action.
Wherever he is now, I know he'll be smiling and laughing aloud if he gets to read this posting. He had such loud recognizable guffaws, such that friends would could tell by the pitch and mirth his laughter would sound in an enclosed huge space, like the laughter heard by one who knew him, and who was performing on stage, and thought John was among the audience. And indeed he was. Once during a Broadway show, as we were seated somewhere up in the box seats, we laughed so loud while watching the funny show; our seatmates got annoyed and distracted, and would be giving us side glances with irritated looks. But with John around, I know I'd be OK and we both could be playfully irreverent and having fun with ourselves watching shows. We kept to our seats, and remained undaunted and just went on enjoying the show until the end.
Comments
best,
steven
srnkebec@aol.com