What's become an annual event happens tonight. Quarter Mexican will play a benefit for the Arc of Northern Virginia, which we've done every year since 2014.
That first show was hard. We'd agreed to a show before he died, but we honored our agreement because that is what felt right. Then, 4 days before the benefit, I got the news that I had skin cancer, which wasn't the end of the world but very much felt like 2014 was really trying to defeat me. Our gig was outdoors, it was July, and I was terrified of it for more than one reason. Performing in the band at the point was not only his mother (me, duh) but his aunt, uncle, and godfather. It was really emotional for 2/3 of the band. Friends came out in droves to support the event, and at the end it was fun, but man, was I worried what would happen if I started crying mid-song.
This show is hard because this us the first year I've taken the reins to make it my own event. In some ways it's been really rewarding as I've brought in my new colleagues from the company I joined in February, and arranged to go back "home" for the show. We're performing tonight at Clarendon Grill, almost 20 years to the day of Gonzo's Nose's first anniversary show there, in November 1997.
This show also always brings Connor right back to the very front of my mind. Last Friday, we were at my parents house helping them prepare for a yard sale, and the bed rails my parents had for when we visited with Connor were in the pile of "to be sold" items. I hadn't seen one of those in more than 3 years, and it made my cry unexpectedly. Not so much a trap door as a misaligned brick that I tripped over. Either way, the worst part was that I may have upset my mother with my little outburst.
Last week I also had my first ever appointment with a therapist. I'm not really very interested in therapy but it's part of the process for the family, so I do it.
The road is rough, and lined with the unexpected. We keep walking.
