Two of my childhood heroes passed away this past week: Adam "MCA" Yauch of the Beastie Boys and children's book creator extraordinaire Maurice Sendak. (Sidenote: I didn't know until today that Sendak was from Brooklyn. This means that both men were born in the borough in which I now live, which helps me a little with my mourning.) Others have written far more eloquently than I on how important both men are to arts and letters, so I won't attempt that today. What I'm thinking through is how and why we mourn, especially when we don't personally know the person who has passed away.
I deliberately chose "non-traditional" obituaries for the links, in part because the Internet is scattered with hundreds of remembrances of both Yauch and Sendak, but also because I've been thinking a lot about what it means to memorialize (and mourn) someone. Derrida is useful here (on Levinas), and even Dylan Thomas.The obituaries to which people often seem to draw much of their information tend to be from "official" news sources like the New York Times - or perhaps the drawing is more internal, given that I used to think of that paper as more of an arbiter of influence than I currently do.
The other thing about memorials, as my post title indicates, is the invocation of a peaceful rest, and what that says about the mourner and the mourned. It is a beautiful thought, no matter one's religious (or non-religious) tradition. Lately, though, it's been occurring to me that the peaceful rest is in stark contrast to a survivor's roiling sadness and pain. I haven't yet decided how much I'll infuse my personal life into this blog, but suffice it to say that one of the closest people to me has received a cancer diagnosis, so Yauch's death, especially, is hitting me harder as I deal with my own loved one's pain. I keep thinking of his daughter and the pain, confusion, and rage that she is probably feeling. As much as I love the Beasties' music and Yauch's activism and humor, this is his daughter's tragedy, and his wife's, and the other Adam's and Mike D's, not mine.
Rest in peace, Adam Yauch and Maurice Sendak.
