I always cry at endings

It's a common saying that "there's a first time for everything."

If there's a first time for everything, there's also a last time for everything. And sometimes they happen together.

On Saturday I attended the final show of my friend Amy's indie pop band Heavenly Creatures, at the Grog Shop. Farewell shows are always special. I've been to some really memorable ones over the years, most especially A Northern Chorus and Ohbijou. And Saturday's show was another emotional and memorable occasion.

As this was the last Heavenly Creatures show, my thoughts of course turned to the first Heavenly Creatures show, which I also attended. That show took place in October 2014 at the Euclid Tavern. And that show, as it turned out, was an important "last time" for me.

I had no idea at the time, but it was the last concert that Cara would ever attend with me.

Because going to concerts together was such an important part of our relationship, the last time it ever happened is naturally something that holds special significance to me, even if it was just a little local show. Liz Kelly of The Village Bicycle opened the night with a really nice solo set, and the duo of sisters ShiSho - who I remember Cara particularly enjoying - followed. Heavenly Creatures played last and Cara was getting tired - fatigue brought on by her illness and treatments was a major reason she rarely went to concerts anymore - so she ended up leaving early with our friend Troy driving her home - but she did catch part of Amy's band's debut and we had a good time together.

It's good to be able to cherish the memories of those last times.

Almost a month ago now, I visited Cara's mother Joyce for the last time. I brought with me a box I have full of Cara's artwork, mostly drawings that she made in the last few years of her life, and we looked through it together. We hugged tightly before I left. This too was a last time that I did not expect would be a last time, although perhaps in this case a small part of me wondered if it might.

I recall also my mom telling me about the last time that she saw her father, and how that's a memory she cherishes.

The first Heavenly Creatures show (was it really almost five years ago now?) was an especially big deal for Amy, Heavenly Creatures' frontwoman, lead guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter, because it was the first time she had ever done anything like that. I remember how nervous she seemed on stage. It was really cool to see her grow increasingly comfortable and confident in that role as I caught her shows over the years.

She also created some darn good songs, most notably the very clever and equally catchy "Your Record Collection," a song that's very relatable for a music fan like me.

For the band's final show, Amy did what she called "VH1 Storytelling" in between the songs, talking about the music and about the life events related to that music, which helped make the night extra meaningful. Some of her storytelling touched on the troubled and troubling times in which we live.

Amy had to disband Heavenly Creatures because she has to move because she was laid off from her job at American Greetings. She explained that she wrote the song "The Cheerleaders' Table" in response to a round of layoffs at the company in 2018 - and then she herself fell victim to the same thing a year later. American Greetings, the world's second largest greeting card company behind Hallmark, was founded in the Cleveland area in 1906 and has been part of the local economy for over a century. Last year an investment firm took over majority control, leading to the layoffs. "It's not a Cleveland company anymore," Amy explained. A sad and all too common story of 21st century life.

"Comforting Pain" was another song inspired by current events, in its case the Republican National Convention held in Cleveland in July 2016. The song begins:

The city might kill me
The summer might just kill us all
The temperature is rising
We might not live to see the fall

The Cleveland-hosted RNC was, of course, the infamous event at which Donald Trump received the nomination to be the Republican presidential candidate. "We were afraid the city was going to burn," Amy said while discussing the song's inception, before sardonically adding, "Now the whole country is burning." More like the world? I thought to myself, stories about the Amazon forest fires flashing through my mind.

Amy also mentioned a concert held during the week of the RNC at which her band covered the R.E.M. song "World Leader Pretend," thinking it fitting (in addition to the title, the lyrics mention raising a wall).

I remember that concert well. It took place at the Happy Dog on the west side. I remember driving across town and seeing the big jet plane with the letters TRUMP emblazoned across its side sitting on the tarmac at the lakefront airport. I remember shuddering at the sight. I remember Amy introducing and playing "World Leader Pretend." I remember Liz Kelly of The Village Bicycle exclaiming, "Fuck you, Republicans! Keep your fucking hands off my fucking uterus!" during between-song banter. I remember a business-casual-dressed middle-aged white guy and a boy I assumed was his son entering the venue some time later to grab a late dinner, looking rather out of place, and me thinking they'd probably come from the RNC and wishing they'd arrived in time to hear that profane outburst. I remember the singer from UK band Jesus and His Judgemental Father talking about how this was their first time in the States and how there were unsettling political events happening on both sides of the Atlantic, but also about how much they'd enjoyed their time over here and (quite charmingly) how they'd enjoyed seeing both fireflies and chipmunks for the first time ever.

It occurred to me while I was thinking about this that there's something interesting about the way I remember concerts. As I look back over all the days of my life, even of my adult life, for a large majority of the days I have no concrete memories of that specific day. Most of the days on which nothing really exceptional happened just run together. I'm sure this is true for most people. If you picked out a random day from my past, chances are I'd have no concrete memories from that day. But concerts... for most concerts I've attended, I do have some concrete memory of the event. I can picture myself at that specific concert. Perhaps I can recall something about a particular song or something that someone in the band said. And so concerts are in some sense anchor points in my recollection of the history of my life. (I think an interesting sci-fi thriller novel I just read called Recursion by Blake Crouch probably helped spark these ponderings.)

I wonder if other people have noticed this sort of thing. Of course, important life events such as a first date, a wedding, the death of a loved one, etc. are more prominent anchor points that are sure to have very concrete memories attached, and there are all sorts of other occurrences that could result in clear memories, but for me, I think concerts are the most common anchor points. Especially in the years since I had to give up distance running, as races in particular as well as certain particularly memorable training runs were another common form of anchor point in my memories. What sorts of commonly occurring anchor points do other people have?

Returning to the events of this past Saturday night...

The Heavenly Creatures song "Who Knows (Goodbye)" concludes with my friend Leia, formerly of the delightfully twee band Afternoon Naps, chiming in to sing the word, "Goodbye." Leia and her husband Martin were original members of Heavenly Creatures and were part of the lineup at that very first show in 2014 but did not stay in the band very long. At the farewell show, during the performance of "Who Knows," Leia was sitting next to the stage. As the song neared its conclusion, she edged her way onto the stage and in front of a microphone to add her part to the song - which was very cute, I must say. That "Goodbye," of course, took on extra significance this time. Leia and Martin then joined the band for the rest of the set.

The last few songs were cover songs chosen specifically for the occasion. Amy said that she had had an idea for years to form an all-female Radiohead cover band called Ladiohead. A similar idea, she added, was an R.E.M. cover band called R.E.Femme. (As an enjoyer of really cheesy puns and wordplay, I greatly appreciated these.) Although the performers were not all female, Amy and her band delivered an impassioned cover of Radiohead hit "Creep."

The next song was introduced by Amy as having been the first song she ever performed on stage, and she said that at the time, she'd had no idea the meaning it would one day have. The song? "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying," a classic Belle and Sebastian tune. With lyrics "At the final moment, I cried/I always cry at endings," it's very fitting for a farewell show.

For me the song is strongly tied to another memory. Me seeing Belle and Sebastian at Red Rocks in June 2015, a show Cara had been supposed to go to with me, and witnessing a live performance of that song, and being struck by how the title lyrics "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying" were so similar to Cara's last words, which as I recall them were along the lines of: "I'm dying. I'm dying. Get me out of here."

And I know that sounds like it must be a really horrible thing to remember. I think what the last moments of a life are actually like is something a lot of people don't like to talk about. But it was something that really happened, something really significant in my life, a moment I shared with Cara - and with her mother - and I wouldn't want to forget it.

The last song of the last Heavenly Creatures show was another one very fitting for the moment, "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" by R.E.M. As the audience belted out the familiar chorus, it was simultaneously poignant and exhilarating. It was a night to remember for sure.

So thank you, Amy and Heavenly Creatures, for the music and the memories. I think everyone who creates music and bravely puts a piece of themselves out there into the world is doing a little something to help us all make it through this strange and often distressing reality, and for that I'm very grateful.