I love the music of Billy Joel.
I love cranking the volume up to high and singing like I’m on stage, even when I’m alone in the car. Yep. I’m that guy. The one you see singing his heart out at a red light! Laughable? Perhaps, but I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t care! Because the music I love just makes me want to sing even more. It’s also a trigger for emotion. Much like a faint smell or strong flavor is reminiscent of a time or place from the past, music has the same ability to trigger powerful feelings and memories.
I remember years ago, when a girlfriend broke up with me, I couldn’t seem to get away from Styx’s or Air Supply’s ultra-popular songs, that were always on the radio. They highlighted my predicament and felt like the saddest love songs to ever be written. Even today when I hear them, it reminds me of that breakup.
This is how my brain works. I can only assume that you too have similar flashbacks, and moments of nostalgia when it comes to music and food. The memory of an important trip, relationship, or event immediately bubbles to the surface. Am I right?
Well, as I type this it’s happening to me. I’ve got Barry Manilow playing in my head phones and the memories are bringing me to tears. Manilow has always been a fan favourite in the Wagman household. Flashback to last week: I’m sitting on the tarmac, on my way home from New York city, having just attended the funeral of my aunt, Patricia Ann Wagman Barad. I am feeling the loss. All I can think about is the beautiful impact this incredible woman has had on me over the last 45 years.
Losing someone is never easy but here’s my silver lining. Today, I accept the incredible memories of this incredible woman as mine – and I am only grateful.
new york, new york
My mom’s originally from Syracuse, New York, and she moved to Toronto because she met my dad on a blind date. True story! Funnily enough, my aunt ending up moving to New York after meeting my uncle Paul, the man of her dreams. Their two children, Bobby and Cindy, still live there today with their own incredible families. As does my brother Ryan, and my sister-in-law Chelsea. So, you can see, I’ve always had a special attachment to New York. It’s always been more about the people than the place. As a matter of fact, when I was a kid I refused to walk around NYC because I was scared…as in….DO NOT LET GO OF MY HAND scared. But I digress.
At my Aunt Trish’s funeral, I thought about asking if I could say a few words, but instead I assumed my father would speak for us all, like at most Wagman gatherings. Even though he had been watching my aunt Trish, his sister, deteriorate for the last few months, he’s a strong, stoic man and a great public speaker to boot. But it was my mother who stood tall and spoke for our family instead.
Susan Gloria Sohl Wagman, accurately and eloquently articulated all of our family’s feelings for Aunt Trish. It was one beautiful, intelligent, woman paying tribute to another beautiful, intelligent woman and a moment I won’t soon forget. Mom, today you demonstrated a side of you that I hadn’t seen before, and I couldn’t have been prouder. Love you.
perspective
I don’t know about you, but when I attend a funeral I usually walk away with some perspective on my own life. Namely, that it’s short. Which leads to the affirmation that I’m going to do more of what I love, with the people I love and I won’t waste a second more on people who don’t positively affect me. However, that perspective usually only lasts for five minutes! But that changes today.
I’ve openly written of my childhood challenges and how I’ve luckily been surrounded by people who would always choose to see the best in me. Not just the PITA (pain in the ass) that I was. My Aunt Trish and Uncle Paul were two of those people. They took the time to see the creative, generous, and sensitive parts of me that make up the man I am today.
So, I’m going to try and be a better nephew, starting now. I promise this perspective is not fleeting. My Uncle Paul lost his best friend, and this will NEVER be lost on me. When my aunt fell sick, I emailed her, and even though she didn’t respond, I know she read them and appreciated me reaching out. So, I’ve now started texting my Uncle Paul. Whom I love deeply and whose sadness I share. I’m here.
I’m not sure that there are an overwhelming number of people who thought I’d amount to anything in my life. But she did. So did my Uncle Paul. They were always on my side. Don’t get me wrong, she also thought I was a pain the ass, but she saw what some others didn’t – that I had more to give. It’s people like her that contributed to me being who I am today. Even in the last few months of her life, having just launched my blog, my aunt commented on a few of my facebook posts. She wanted me to know just how proud of me she was. I think there was also an air of ‘I told you so, Jordan’. She knew what I could become and I am forever grateful for it.
My aunt was a true creative. She was always involved in a new arts venture or looking for the next project. Most recently, I learned that she was working on 3D art. Honestly, I’m not even sure what that is but I heard through a few people that her most recent project was a 3D picture of a chef. Aunt Trish was creating that for me. I asked Uncle Paul for it. Although unfinished, I want to frame it and show it off in my home.
I will miss you, Aunt Trish. My siblings and I will look after your brother (our dad), and although he is the last Wagman of your immediate family, he is definitely not the last. The world has to deal with A LOT more of us! Your children, my cousins are like siblings, thanks to you and dad. You made sure we had the space for such amazing bonds to form, and we really will do our best to create that same situation for our kids.
Together, we will continue to make you proud.
You are gone. But my aunt, you will never be forgotten. I love you.
Your nephew.
– Chef.
