I've been thinking of this blog a lot lately, for a lot of reasons. I've had quite a few friends start up some awesome blogs recently, so that's been a great inspiration. I've also been feeling a little stuck, in a way. A big part of it, of course, is due to being far from home - and everything I'm familiar to. I'm so glad I took the risk to leave home and build a life for myself in Oregon, but it's hard. It's really freaking hard... meeting new people, finding new hobbies, feeling comfortable in your totally naked (wait, that's not how you make friends? jk metaphors of course) skin. Anyway, I decided it's time to get unstuck. It's time to start being a little more aware of how lucky I am, and the happiness that surrounds me every day (because I am really lucky, and there is a lot of things to be happy about).
And guess what! That's the whole reason I start this project in the first place. Cool right?
I've been thinking about what I wanted this first post in a long time to be about, and today I got some inspiration. As I said, I've been missing home and all those familiar, comfortable feelings it brings. It's been tough being away, especially the past couple months. As those close to me know, my cousin, Melanie - who I adore - lost her husband, Nick - who I also adore - to a long battle to cancer a few months ago. I wished more than anything that I could be home to be there for her and her precious kids, to do anything in the world they wanted me to do. But I couldn't. So, one night I was sitting at home by myself, browsing Facebook (duh), and saw that Melanie had posted something about their favorite band, Punch Brothers. I immediately knew: I had to contact them. And little did I know that it'd turn into my favorite story of the power of things I love most: music, family, good intentions, and hope.
Melanie just posted the full story on Nick's Facebook support page, A Sweet Piece of Nick, for the first time in honor of the band's new album (visit the page for the video that goes with the story - I couldn't find a way to embed it here, but I promise your heart will be touched in ways you never thought possible).
Anyway, I'll let Mel do the talking from here...
Familiarity
It finally arrived. The new Punch Brothers CD, The Phosphorescent Blues, was delivered to our house today. Although it came out less than a week ago, I first got to listen to it in its entirety in November. On what would be the last conscious night of his life, Nick played host to none other than Chris "Critter" Eldridge, guitarist for the Punch Brothers, and it was one of the best nights of his life.
I've been waiting until the album was officially released to tell this story, because I wanted to share the video. I didn't want to disrespect the band by publicly posting a video playing their as-yet-unpublished songs (even though they had been performing a few of them in shows and people had already been posting videos of the concert performances to YouTube.) I just have so much respect for these musicians that goes far beyond awe for their talents.
To recap, shortly before Nick went into hospice, my cousin, who lives in Oregon, emailed the Punch Brothers' manager. Here is part of her original email:
"This could be an absolute long shot, but I want to give it a try nonetheless. My name is Emily, I'm 25 and currently live in Portland, Oregon. My cousin, Melanie Selvi, lives outside of Baltimore, Maryland, and is very proud to say that the Punch Brothers are her and her young family's absolute favorite band. At this very moment, Mel is sitting bedside of her 36-year-old husband, Nick Selvi, who has been putting up a fierce fight against cancer for the past few years. Unfortunately, our family has just been told that these next few days will be Nick's last, and I feel totally helpless being so far away from them. I'm hoping something good can come out of this email, regardless of this distance.
....I've never done anything like this before, but I just so badly want to bring joy to this incredible family right now. Any type of correspondence from the Punch Brothers to Melanie, Nick, Natalie, and Gabriel would just mean more to them/us than anyone could ever imagine. Just a simple 'hello' and 'thinking of you' is all that I ask."
I was totally unaware that Emily had sent this email--until I got a message from the manager of the Punch Brothers saying how the band had all been notified of Nick's situation and that they sent their prayers and love our way. I shared it with Nick with the biggest smile on my face and tears in my eyes. That would have been enough. But the band wasn't done.
The night we renewed our vows, I got an email from Critter. I couldn't believe it. I had opened my email in the parking lot before I left hospice, and as soon as I read it I called Nick in his room and read it to him. He was stunned. Here's what it said:
Hi Mel,
We are all so moved by your family's story and wish there was something more we could do to bring comfort/joy. To that end, I just had a crazy idea. Would it be appropriate for me to come down there and play Nick the new PB record? I could be there tonight. NYC is only 3 hours away from Abingdon.
Of course, if that would be too much of an intrusion in these final days, I totally understand.
Sending all the best,
Chris
"What do you think?" I asked Nick. "Can we have him come down?"
"Yeah!" was his instant reply.
With my heart pounding, I replied to the email and we worked out a plan for Chris to drive down the next night and play the album.
When he arrived around 8 PM, Nick and I were there waiting, along with two of Nick's closest friends, Matt and Phil. The boys had arrived earlier in the evening, and Matt, an artist and art teacher, had sketched a portrait of Nick reclining in his bed as we were talking. It was great, but he said he wasn't happy with it and dropped it on the floor. He had just started drawing a second portrait when Critter arrived.
The first thing Critter did when he saw me was give me a hug, and then as I walked him down to Nick's room, feeling a little giddy, I quickly tried to prepare him for the way Nick looked and sounded. I was worried that he might be taken aback or grossed out, but he shook his head, dismissing me. "Nah, I'm not concerned about that stuff." Sure enough, he walked directly into the room and greeted Nick, Matt, and Phil as if we were just all hanging out in someone's living room. We chatted and laughed about music, school, sports, work, and food. Critter placed a cell phone call to Chris Thile (lead singer and mandolin player) who was in Paris, so that he and Nick could have a chance to talk. They had a great conversation. Then it was time to start the album.
I got the video camera ready. Critter pressed play on the boom box we had borrowed from the hospice's sitting area, and the room instantly changed. The opening arpeggios of the first track, Familiarity, reverberated around us. It was completely silent. Everyone was still, except for Matt scratching his pencil across paper. The very air seemed to be vibrating. Nick closed his eyes, listening. The music whirled around us, encircling us. The song had three separate movements. It felt to me like I was listening to a progression of Nick's life as the second movement began, with jarring staccato from the bass before the speed increased, voices and instruments swelled, and percussion came in. I turned the camera off, feeling rather self-conscious, and crossed the room to sit on the floor between Phil and Critter, who were in chairs watching Nick. I too studied his face--utterly relaxed, eyes closed--anyone who didn't know him would think he was sleeping or drugged, but we all knew he was simply listening, absorbing, processing. He was still a musician, and nothing could ever cool his fierce passion. Matt’s eyes flicked back and forth from Nick to paper as he sketched furiously.
The second movement ended with the band's voices merging in harmony and beautiful violin arpeggios dancing in and out of the chorus, then a fade out. Just when I thought the song was over, Thile's solo mandolin faded back in, a slower version of the melody, so raw and emotional that as soon as I looked up at Nick's face I started crying and couldn't stop. Nick didn't notice. He was listening. I was silent, tears filling up and streaming down. Phil put his hand on my shoulder and I saw that he was crying too. The voices came back in:
So darling when
You wake remind me what we've done
That can't be shared or saved or even sung
It's on again
You nod your head and take my hand
And though I'm not sure where we'll go
Amen
To worship more than what we know
Amen
As long as you're there I won't be alone
A man
Among
Amens
The rest of the album went kind of like that. We mostly listened in silence, sometimes talking, sometimes holding Nick’s hand. Sometimes Nick would take a drink or munch on a few of the Doritos he’d been craving that day. Nick and I were both blown away by the quality of the music. “You guys have really outdone yourselves with this one,” I told Critter. After one of the songs came to a particularly beautiful ending, Nick called out in the silence between tracks, eyes still closed, “THAT’s what I’m talkin’ bout!” We all laughed.
Sometime after ten, Critter packed up to make the three-hour trek back to New York. I had to leave shortly after that to get home to the kids, and as I walked out to the car, Critter pulled up beside me and got out of his car to give me a hug. He asked me some questions about our family and about Nick’s prognosis and listened earnestly to everything I said. In his eyes, there was true compassion and humanity. He told me to please stay in touch, that we’d be in his prayers, and that the band would love to see us at their upcoming concerts in DC. I was so humbled that this total stranger had chosen to walk into a situation most people wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole, befriend a small group of people as if he’d known them forever, and share his gifts with us. And though I didn’t know it then, it was the last conversation any of us would get to have with Nick.
By midnight, Nick had become very agitated and confused, and the doctors increased his meds. Saturday afternoon, he fell into a deep sleep from which he never truly awoke. When they came to visit, both Matt and Phil were still as awed as I was. “Last night,” said Matt, “There’s no doubt about it. We were in a sacred place.”
I still believe that it was a miracle how Nick was able to be so present in those last few hours of November 7th. It was like he was saving up all his strength and energy just to have that experience. It was worth everything. And now I have the music to listen to, so I can go back to that moment in my mind whenever I like. Our favorite band has cemented their place in our family’s hearts forever. Thanks to Emily, Critter, and everyone else who made that last real night better than we could have ever imagined.
~Mel
— at Gilchrist Hospice care Towson MD.It finally arrived. The new Punch Brothers CD, The Phosphorescent Blues, was delivered to our house today. Although it came out less than a week ago, I first got to listen to it in its entirety in November. On what would be the last conscious night of his life, Nick played host to none other than Chris "Critter" Eldridge, guitarist for the Punch Brothers, and it was one of the best nights of his life.
I've been waiting until the album was officially released to tell this story, because I wanted to share the video. I didn't want to disrespect the band by publicly posting a video playing their as-yet-unpublished songs (even though they had been performing a few of them in shows and people had already been posting videos of the concert performances to YouTube.) I just have so much respect for these musicians that goes far beyond awe for their talents.
To recap, shortly before Nick went into hospice, my cousin, who lives in Oregon, emailed the Punch Brothers' manager. Here is part of her original email:
"This could be an absolute long shot, but I want to give it a try nonetheless. My name is Emily, I'm 25 and currently live in Portland, Oregon. My cousin, Melanie Selvi, lives outside of Baltimore, Maryland, and is very proud to say that the Punch Brothers are her and her young family's absolute favorite band. At this very moment, Mel is sitting bedside of her 36-year-old husband, Nick Selvi, who has been putting up a fierce fight against cancer for the past few years. Unfortunately, our family has just been told that these next few days will be Nick's last, and I feel totally helpless being so far away from them. I'm hoping something good can come out of this email, regardless of this distance.
....I've never done anything like this before, but I just so badly want to bring joy to this incredible family right now. Any type of correspondence from the Punch Brothers to Melanie, Nick, Natalie, and Gabriel would just mean more to them/us than anyone could ever imagine. Just a simple 'hello' and 'thinking of you' is all that I ask."
I was totally unaware that Emily had sent this email--until I got a message from the manager of the Punch Brothers saying how the band had all been notified of Nick's situation and that they sent their prayers and love our way. I shared it with Nick with the biggest smile on my face and tears in my eyes. That would have been enough. But the band wasn't done.
The night we renewed our vows, I got an email from Critter. I couldn't believe it. I had opened my email in the parking lot before I left hospice, and as soon as I read it I called Nick in his room and read it to him. He was stunned. Here's what it said:
Hi Mel,
We are all so moved by your family's story and wish there was something more we could do to bring comfort/joy. To that end, I just had a crazy idea. Would it be appropriate for me to come down there and play Nick the new PB record? I could be there tonight. NYC is only 3 hours away from Abingdon.
Of course, if that would be too much of an intrusion in these final days, I totally understand.
Sending all the best,
Chris
"What do you think?" I asked Nick. "Can we have him come down?"
"Yeah!" was his instant reply.
With my heart pounding, I replied to the email and we worked out a plan for Chris to drive down the next night and play the album.
When he arrived around 8 PM, Nick and I were there waiting, along with two of Nick's closest friends, Matt and Phil. The boys had arrived earlier in the evening, and Matt, an artist and art teacher, had sketched a portrait of Nick reclining in his bed as we were talking. It was great, but he said he wasn't happy with it and dropped it on the floor. He had just started drawing a second portrait when Critter arrived.
The first thing Critter did when he saw me was give me a hug, and then as I walked him down to Nick's room, feeling a little giddy, I quickly tried to prepare him for the way Nick looked and sounded. I was worried that he might be taken aback or grossed out, but he shook his head, dismissing me. "Nah, I'm not concerned about that stuff." Sure enough, he walked directly into the room and greeted Nick, Matt, and Phil as if we were just all hanging out in someone's living room. We chatted and laughed about music, school, sports, work, and food. Critter placed a cell phone call to Chris Thile (lead singer and mandolin player) who was in Paris, so that he and Nick could have a chance to talk. They had a great conversation. Then it was time to start the album.
I got the video camera ready. Critter pressed play on the boom box we had borrowed from the hospice's sitting area, and the room instantly changed. The opening arpeggios of the first track, Familiarity, reverberated around us. It was completely silent. Everyone was still, except for Matt scratching his pencil across paper. The very air seemed to be vibrating. Nick closed his eyes, listening. The music whirled around us, encircling us. The song had three separate movements. It felt to me like I was listening to a progression of Nick's life as the second movement began, with jarring staccato from the bass before the speed increased, voices and instruments swelled, and percussion came in. I turned the camera off, feeling rather self-conscious, and crossed the room to sit on the floor between Phil and Critter, who were in chairs watching Nick. I too studied his face--utterly relaxed, eyes closed--anyone who didn't know him would think he was sleeping or drugged, but we all knew he was simply listening, absorbing, processing. He was still a musician, and nothing could ever cool his fierce passion. Matt’s eyes flicked back and forth from Nick to paper as he sketched furiously.
The second movement ended with the band's voices merging in harmony and beautiful violin arpeggios dancing in and out of the chorus, then a fade out. Just when I thought the song was over, Thile's solo mandolin faded back in, a slower version of the melody, so raw and emotional that as soon as I looked up at Nick's face I started crying and couldn't stop. Nick didn't notice. He was listening. I was silent, tears filling up and streaming down. Phil put his hand on my shoulder and I saw that he was crying too. The voices came back in:
So darling when
You wake remind me what we've done
That can't be shared or saved or even sung
It's on again
You nod your head and take my hand
And though I'm not sure where we'll go
Amen
To worship more than what we know
Amen
As long as you're there I won't be alone
A man
Among
Amens
The rest of the album went kind of like that. We mostly listened in silence, sometimes talking, sometimes holding Nick’s hand. Sometimes Nick would take a drink or munch on a few of the Doritos he’d been craving that day. Nick and I were both blown away by the quality of the music. “You guys have really outdone yourselves with this one,” I told Critter. After one of the songs came to a particularly beautiful ending, Nick called out in the silence between tracks, eyes still closed, “THAT’s what I’m talkin’ bout!” We all laughed.
Sometime after ten, Critter packed up to make the three-hour trek back to New York. I had to leave shortly after that to get home to the kids, and as I walked out to the car, Critter pulled up beside me and got out of his car to give me a hug. He asked me some questions about our family and about Nick’s prognosis and listened earnestly to everything I said. In his eyes, there was true compassion and humanity. He told me to please stay in touch, that we’d be in his prayers, and that the band would love to see us at their upcoming concerts in DC. I was so humbled that this total stranger had chosen to walk into a situation most people wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole, befriend a small group of people as if he’d known them forever, and share his gifts with us. And though I didn’t know it then, it was the last conversation any of us would get to have with Nick.
By midnight, Nick had become very agitated and confused, and the doctors increased his meds. Saturday afternoon, he fell into a deep sleep from which he never truly awoke. When they came to visit, both Matt and Phil were still as awed as I was. “Last night,” said Matt, “There’s no doubt about it. We were in a sacred place.”
I still believe that it was a miracle how Nick was able to be so present in those last few hours of November 7th. It was like he was saving up all his strength and energy just to have that experience. It was worth everything. And now I have the music to listen to, so I can go back to that moment in my mind whenever I like. Our favorite band has cemented their place in our family’s hearts forever. Thanks to Emily, Critter, and everyone else who made that last real night better than we could have ever imagined.
~Mel
