Re: Joey Cornell with NRAT/IRAT?
Update
I would like to share some of the thoughts and feelings from yesterday’s funeral mass for Joey.
It was crushingly sad to have to start to admit that we will all have to say goodbye to our friend, but it was also pleasantly (in) appropriate…
I knew I was in the right place when I walked into the church and heard thrash-metal playing. Joey’s laptop was playing the IRAT-beta promotional video. It was perfect! I thought to myself that only Joey could get away with playing heavy metal in a church, especially at a funeral. The first thing that people saw when they came into the church was pictures and video of Joey, climbing, rappelling, shooting, etc., basically just Joey being Joey.
As you moved to enter the church there was a small document that his parents put together with his picture on the cover. It detailed the higher points, of which there were many, of Joey’s life. I won’t retype it all now but there are two things I do want to share. The first is something that was repeated throughout the ceremony and in conversations afterwards: Joey loved his girls. The last thing that was written was totally Joey, “We know that he is with our heavenly father and with other family teaching them how to jump from cloud to cloud.”
As you moved up the main aisle of the church to greet the family, there were a series of poster boards with pictures of Joey and family and friends. (Maybe I am alone in this, but I had no idea Joey was such a hippy back in the day! I’d never seen him with long hair). After looking at the pictures, smiling, laughing, and beginning to get choked up, I walked up and greeted Mrs. Cornell. True to form, the first thing that happened, before I could even attempt to console her, she asked me how I was doing. We hugged and chatted for a bit. I moved along and shook hands with Mr. Cornell, and awkwardly hugged him (can’t help it, I am a huggy person).
Staci and Kenda were next in line; the other girls were elsewhere at the time. As soon as we made eye contact, we both started to tear up. We knew that there were no words to ease the pain, to make sense of it all. We hugged and made the small talk that you do when you want to avoid talking about the pain that you both know that you feel. She introduced me to Joey’s brother Brian and his family. I had never met his brother or his family.
Brian shook my hand and stopped me cold when he told me that Joey always spoke very highly of me. This wasn’t going to be the only time he made me cry. I met his wife and son, and stepped forward to see another picture of Joey and the box containing his cremated remains. I couldn’t believe that a box that small could ever contain Joey. He was too big, too great a spirit to be contained in so small of a box. I know that it is just what was left of his body, but it made my breath catch in my throat.
I excused myself to hide in the back of the church to try to compose myself. I thought of what Joey would say if he was there, and I apologize if I offend anyone by writing what I thought he would say. If he saw me starting to well up with tears, he would have punched me on the arm and said, “Walk it off you big sissy!” (although he would not have used the word sissy...) It made me smile and brought my feelings back under control. It wasn’t the last time I had to tell myself that.
The mass was nice; the music, the readings, the process was good to focus so we didn’t have to remember why were there. I had actually fooled myself into thinking that I was going to make it through the rest of the service without breaking down, and then his brother spoke. Staci and the girls had written something to say, but Staci just couldn’t read it. Brian apologized because he didn’t think that he would be able to get through the letter. He also said that as it was written by Staci and the girls, he would have to change things a bit. I got the feeling that he hadn’t had a chance to read it before he stood before all of us in church.
The letter talked of Joey’s love for his girls, his passion for teaching and training others, and then Brian stopped, and you could see he was struggling. Staci had written that Joey had really looked up to his brother and I am not sure that Brian knew that before he had to read it to us. I began to lose the fight to restrain my emotions at that time as well. Next, Jocelyn, Joey’s youngest daughter, got up and read something. Her voice was soft and broken with sadness, and I couldn’t hear much over my own muffled sobs. As she walked away, I knew I was done for; the bagpiper walked up to the front of the church and began to play…
I have no shame in stating that I was crying my eyes out at that time, as well as now when I write this.
After the ceremony a few of us went for a bite to eat, a drink or two and some shared stories. I had also put some of the pictures together that some of you had sent along with some of my own and put some music to them (October by Evanescence as the lead song, one that was a favorite of Joey’s). I am going to see if I can get more pictures to scan from his parents and I have a playlist of 16 songs that will be the soundtrack of a memorial presentation that I hope to be able to show.
I need to stop writing now, I think you will understand.
Please keep in touch, share pictures, stories, and memories. I will pass along information about the college fund for the girls and a date and location for a gathering to remember Joey when I know more.
Thank you for letting me share this with you, it helps a little bit...
Tim
Update
I would like to share some of the thoughts and feelings from yesterday’s funeral mass for Joey.
It was crushingly sad to have to start to admit that we will all have to say goodbye to our friend, but it was also pleasantly (in) appropriate…
I knew I was in the right place when I walked into the church and heard thrash-metal playing. Joey’s laptop was playing the IRAT-beta promotional video. It was perfect! I thought to myself that only Joey could get away with playing heavy metal in a church, especially at a funeral. The first thing that people saw when they came into the church was pictures and video of Joey, climbing, rappelling, shooting, etc., basically just Joey being Joey.
As you moved to enter the church there was a small document that his parents put together with his picture on the cover. It detailed the higher points, of which there were many, of Joey’s life. I won’t retype it all now but there are two things I do want to share. The first is something that was repeated throughout the ceremony and in conversations afterwards: Joey loved his girls. The last thing that was written was totally Joey, “We know that he is with our heavenly father and with other family teaching them how to jump from cloud to cloud.”
As you moved up the main aisle of the church to greet the family, there were a series of poster boards with pictures of Joey and family and friends. (Maybe I am alone in this, but I had no idea Joey was such a hippy back in the day! I’d never seen him with long hair). After looking at the pictures, smiling, laughing, and beginning to get choked up, I walked up and greeted Mrs. Cornell. True to form, the first thing that happened, before I could even attempt to console her, she asked me how I was doing. We hugged and chatted for a bit. I moved along and shook hands with Mr. Cornell, and awkwardly hugged him (can’t help it, I am a huggy person).
Staci and Kenda were next in line; the other girls were elsewhere at the time. As soon as we made eye contact, we both started to tear up. We knew that there were no words to ease the pain, to make sense of it all. We hugged and made the small talk that you do when you want to avoid talking about the pain that you both know that you feel. She introduced me to Joey’s brother Brian and his family. I had never met his brother or his family.
Brian shook my hand and stopped me cold when he told me that Joey always spoke very highly of me. This wasn’t going to be the only time he made me cry. I met his wife and son, and stepped forward to see another picture of Joey and the box containing his cremated remains. I couldn’t believe that a box that small could ever contain Joey. He was too big, too great a spirit to be contained in so small of a box. I know that it is just what was left of his body, but it made my breath catch in my throat.
I excused myself to hide in the back of the church to try to compose myself. I thought of what Joey would say if he was there, and I apologize if I offend anyone by writing what I thought he would say. If he saw me starting to well up with tears, he would have punched me on the arm and said, “Walk it off you big sissy!” (although he would not have used the word sissy...) It made me smile and brought my feelings back under control. It wasn’t the last time I had to tell myself that.
The mass was nice; the music, the readings, the process was good to focus so we didn’t have to remember why were there. I had actually fooled myself into thinking that I was going to make it through the rest of the service without breaking down, and then his brother spoke. Staci and the girls had written something to say, but Staci just couldn’t read it. Brian apologized because he didn’t think that he would be able to get through the letter. He also said that as it was written by Staci and the girls, he would have to change things a bit. I got the feeling that he hadn’t had a chance to read it before he stood before all of us in church.
The letter talked of Joey’s love for his girls, his passion for teaching and training others, and then Brian stopped, and you could see he was struggling. Staci had written that Joey had really looked up to his brother and I am not sure that Brian knew that before he had to read it to us. I began to lose the fight to restrain my emotions at that time as well. Next, Jocelyn, Joey’s youngest daughter, got up and read something. Her voice was soft and broken with sadness, and I couldn’t hear much over my own muffled sobs. As she walked away, I knew I was done for; the bagpiper walked up to the front of the church and began to play…
I have no shame in stating that I was crying my eyes out at that time, as well as now when I write this.
After the ceremony a few of us went for a bite to eat, a drink or two and some shared stories. I had also put some of the pictures together that some of you had sent along with some of my own and put some music to them (October by Evanescence as the lead song, one that was a favorite of Joey’s). I am going to see if I can get more pictures to scan from his parents and I have a playlist of 16 songs that will be the soundtrack of a memorial presentation that I hope to be able to show.
I need to stop writing now, I think you will understand.
Please keep in touch, share pictures, stories, and memories. I will pass along information about the college fund for the girls and a date and location for a gathering to remember Joey when I know more.
Thank you for letting me share this with you, it helps a little bit...
Tim
