Goodbye, Joe

On March 9th, the chairman of the Drew University theatre department, Joe Patenaude, passed away from a heart attack. The university held a memorial service for him in April, along with a concert to benefit his daughter.

Only I didn't know any of this until I got the alumni magazine in the mail.

How do I feel about this? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to feel? I know that, as an alumna for several years, I'm already once removed from the campus, so it would follow that I don't always know everything that's going on there.

At the same time, this dredges up memories of when my friend died during Spring Break and I didn't know until after the funeral. In fact, I didn't get the email that came out and only found out when she didn't show up for the Latin class we had together. I felt cheated (and guilty) for not being able to attend her funeral, and I feel cheated (and guilty) for not attending Joe's memorial service.

If I remember this right, he got the chairman position a few years ago because he wasn't around during the vote (and no, that wasn't a joke.) Joe and I rarely saw things eye to eye, but I respected his passion and conviction about his work. I also liked him as a friend and human being, and spoke with him on a number of occasions after graduation. We would meet by accident at the local library or bookstore and catch up on life. I offered my sympathy when he told me his wife had a brain tumor, and my condolences when she passed away last year. (I never had the chance to tell him my father would also be diagnosed with a brain tumor that December.) He was so proud when Drew put on a production of the musical Urinetown, and when I didn't even have enough money for my father's ticket he told me not to worry about it. He was always honest, and that isn't something you can say about many people.

And what about his daughter, Emma? I don't remember how old she is, but she must barely be a teenager. She's lost both parents in less than a year. Out of all my muddled feelings, I feel the sorriest for her. Poor kid didn't deserve this.

I still haven't written anything on his condolence page yet. Right now I've had so much pain and fear in my life I'm not sure I can.

Goodbye, Joe. Thanks for being a part of my life, if only for a few years, and for actually listening to this department misfit even when I couldn't understand myself.