He’s Gone

When I heard the news of Bob Weir’s passing, my first instinct was to text Jeannessa. She was always interested in that sort of news- often the one breaking it to me. I’m not usually a person who is very attached to celebrity news, but this one was personal. 

Bobby was a guitar legend, a humanitarian, a loving husband and father, known for being a kind soul. Along with his band mates, Jerry, Bill, PigPen, and Phil, at the age of just 17, he unintentionally sparked a huge community of dedicated followers simply through sharing the gift of music. All of these reasons are enough to mourn his passing, but for me it’s even more personal. 

I loved the Grateful Dead when I was younger, but circumstances kept me from going to a show until I was a lot older. I admit, I never got to see Jerry live. I remember the moment I heard of his passing in August of 1995 and felt instant regret. That may have been one of my first lessons in taking every opportunity to seize the moment.

When the kids were little, I used to teach yoga every Sunday morning and come home to the smell of bacon and the sounds of live Dead. Kev had tapped into the archive of shows and it was growing on both of us. So of course, when what was left of the band played the 50th anniversary shows walking distance from our house, I finally got my chance. And then the following summer Bob connected with John Mayer, started touring with Dead & Company and we were all in! 

Going to a Dead show is unlike any other live music experience. It starts long before the show in the parking lot (“Shakedown”) with camaraderie, joyful shenanigans, an easy opportunity to connect with like-minded people. In the show, the music, with its complex composition and insightful lyrics hits you right in the center of your soul. It feels more like going to church than going to other live concerts, but without the righteous dogma.

Celebrating our 20th anniversary was the perfect excuse to “hightail it down to Mexico” for Playing in the Sand. It was one of the best weeks of my life and as long as they kept putting on this festival (later Dead Ahead), we planned to be there! And that’s where this tale gets personal and why Bob and what he created is so meaningful to me. That’s where we found our “tour family.” 

These friends, in spite of living all over the country (and even Canada!), truly have become family. We started meeting up for shows- Dead & Company as well as the numerous options of tribute bands near and far- every chance we could. Chicago, Ventura, Las Vegas, Colorado, and right here in the Bay Area…I was inspired to learn guitar and the musicians in our group took me under their wings. Sometimes we travel to meet up even when there isn’t a show. I’ve cheered on a marathon (in the rain!), witnessed a marriage, gone to Major League Baseball games, and visited a remote island in British Columbia with members of my Deadhead family. Our kids, including Jeannessa, have often been included and gotten to know so many of these beautiful souls. We have shared our hardships and troubleshooted life’s challenges. I can let my freak flag fly with wild abandon with no side eye of judgment or merely confusion. These people get me!

And when Jeannessa died, they all showed up. Calls, food, words of love and support, shoulders to cry on. Most of the group flew in from other parts of the country for her service- some with instruments or art projects to incorporate into the memorial without me even having to ask. They have been there for the good and the bad and continue to be.

It was so fitting that Bob passed on January 10- the same weekend that we went to Mexico every year to see him play. This year, with no Dead festival down in Mexico, part of our fam made other plans and hit the Tropic of Cancer music festival in Todos Santos. On the way, we popped by Phoenix for the baby shower of our Deadheads Rachel and Connor (congrats you two!), and that’s where we were, surrounded by our people when we heard the heartbreaking news.

The week in Baja was bittersweet. Only a small contingent of our group was together. We danced to the invigorating sounds of Lettuce, which brought us back to our previous years in Mexico with all of us dancing together as they played the after parties at Dead Ahead. Andy Frasco and the U.N. brought so much life affirming energy to multiple sets, reminding us to embrace every opportunity for joy even in the face of life’s hardships- a super fitting message for this moment.

I’ve cried a lot at Dead shows in the last four months. Maybe it’s triggered by a harmony or a song lyric or just knowing I’ll never get to share the experience again with Jeannessa. It’s a cathartic experience and always feels safe letting tears flow when I’m among Deadheads. In the last week, I wasn’t the only one shedding tears on the dance floor, just the only one shedding them for Jeannessa. 

Although it was so close to home, we missed Bob’s Celebration of Life held Saturday in Civic Center Plaza as we were still in Mexico, but we watched it live on YouTube. Listening to the heartfelt eulogies, we spied a handful of our fam right there at the front of the enormous crowd of Deadheads. That hit me right in the center of my heart and the tears for Bob finally started to flow. As noted in the speeches, this isn’t the end, just the beginning of a new phase of Grateful Dead history. 

And that’s what I’m feeling for Jeannessa, too. Like Bob’s spirit will live on through every note of Grateful Dead music, Jeannessa’s spirit will live on in the support for animals carried out through Jeannessa’s Friends. With Bob joining Jerry and Phil and Pigpen and Brent and Keith and Donna, I hope Jeannessa will be riding the rail at the reunion tour on the other side.