GRIEVER's DOSSIER // "I still feel cheated."

ft. Tobias Barr

GRIEVER’S DOSSIER is a Q+A series that invites grieving humans to share their experiences with death, loss, life, legacy, mourning, memorials, and more. This is the ninth such dossier in the series; you can read the first one here, which I (Laura) answered myself. If you’d like to keep going; Christine’s is here, Hans’s is here, Autumn’s is here, John’s is here, Mirielle’s is here, this is Liz’s, and this is Mona’s. The Dossier you have in front of you now was graciously completed by Tobias.

All images courtesy Tobias Barr; all photo illustrations by me.

I don’t know how this will sound, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Has anyone in a mediocre marriage or relationship ever lost a partner to cancer? Or does it only happen to those powerful magnet matches, those people who sing and breathe and rise and resolve to keep rising for and with each other so completely that everyone around them feels a part of their story and a part of their magic? Because I’ll tell you what: I’ve only ever known cancer to happen to that kind of couple—like with Cara and Tobias.

Cara was more alive than most of us. Anyone who was a part of the early ‘00s and ‘10s garage rock scene in Seattle will endorse that, and I’m sure everyone in her other circles would, too. To know her was to know the girl who shimmied to the front of the stage, pulling you along with her. Who danced the longest and with the most abandon. Who had the most friends in the room, who knew all the B sides, who would beat you at pinball and then make you take shots with her. Who was wearing the best vintage dress. Who was having the most fun. And Tobias was her champion, her biggest fan, her equal—only in his own quieter, more reserved way. Together they traveled, they cooked, they dreamt, they loved, they imagined they would live forever and do literally all the things—until eye cancer swiftly and cruelly took her big, bright, seemingly inextinguishable life.

WHO ARE YOU GRIEVING?
I lost my wife Cara Joy in August of 2016 of Ocular Melanoma. She was full of life, light and always positive. Today is the anniversary of her passing. It’s been 7 years and I still think of her and miss her constantly.

WHAT’S ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE MEMORIES OF CARA?
We had the same amount of wanderlust in us and it showed by the number of times we crossed the country seeking a new adventure in life. One of my favorite memories is Cara seeing a ghost town off the highway in Arizona (I think?) and we detoured to check it out. Wandering around abandoned houses and taking photos. Everything we did together was fun and loving. We held hands instinctively, kissed always—and the way she looked at me with those pale blue eyes. I knew she was my person, she knew I was hers.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT CARA’S LIFE?
Her lust for life for sure. She would set a goal, follow through and achieve it. One day when we lived in North Carolina, Cara decided she wanted to join a couch-to-5K running group. That led to 10K races, half marathons, and then full marathons.

She would dance at the drop of a hat and force everyone around to join in. She loved deeply with her entire heart and expected the same in return and would let you know if you were not holding up your end of the deal.

WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND IN TERMS OF YOUR GRIEF? HOW HAS YOUR GRIEF EVOLVED AND CHANGED? WHAT HAS IT SHOWN YOU?
I really don’t know. It’s been 7 years since Cara died and I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately. I think of all the experiences she has missed and I feel guilty for continuing living my life while she was not able to live hers to the fullest. For the first year or two after she passed I felt like I was 25% of the person I was with Cara, now I feel like I’m half the person I was before. Not great but better. I honestly don’t sit with my grief and feel it often. It’s always right below the surface though.

Five years ago I was seeing a new agey therapist and joined an ayahuasca ceremony with him and others. During the experience everyone was crying and vomiting and going through unseen stuff and I wasn’t. I remember trying to bring up sad things and Cara was there with me and wouldn’t let me. I tried to rehash her last moments and she would cut that off and remind me of a living room dance party of just the two of us. I asked her if I was ok and she told me I was doing ok for the situation I was in. Straight talk just like usual.

DOES DEATH HAVE A GIFT? DOES GRIEF? WHEN THINKING ABOUT CARA’S DEATH AND THE EXPERIENCE OF YOUR GRIEF, WHAT DO YOU KNOW, SEE, FEEL, OR EXPERIENCE NOW THAT YOU DIDN’T OR COULDN’T BEFORE?
Not for me. I still feel cheated. Cara wouldn’t be happy with that answer but it’s how I’ve always felt. There’s the tired cliche “if only I could trade places I would” but Cara was the one worthy of going on. She made me a better person and now I feel a hollowness.

WHAT DO YOU THINK CARA WOULD HAVE SAID WAS HER LEGACY? WHAT WOULD SHE HAVE SAID ABOUT LEGACY IN GENERAL, AND THE NOTION OF THINKING ABOUT ONE’S LIFE IN THAT WAY?
I think Cara would just want people to think of her kindly and remember all the good times. A big fear of hers was that I was only going to think of the times she was sick and not all of the times she was healthy. It’s honestly hard to not dwell on the hard times but I try for her. 

DO YOU HAVE A SENSE OF WHAT CARA WOULD WANT FOR YOU NOW, IN THIS WORLD WITHOUT HER? 
Happiness. 

WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WISH SOMEONE WOULD HAVE SAID OR DONE OR SEEN OR RECOGNIZED ABOUT YOUR GRIEF?
I wish people would have been there more. Cara’s biggest fear was leaving me alone and I didn’t understand it then. So many friends and family have drifted away and I miss them, but it seems like Cara was the glue. 

WHAT IS SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL THAT SOMEONE SAID OR DID OR SAW OR RECOGNIZED ABOUT YOUR GRIEF?
A good friend of Cara’s and now my good friend who lives across the country called me shortly after Cara died and asked what I was planning on doing with all of her clothes. I still wasn’t sleeping in our bed or really going into our bedroom and wasn’t thinking why. She flew from Minneapolis and helped me sort all of her clothes, giving as much to friends and family as we could, donating the rest to a women’s shelter. I didn’t know I needed that help.

WHAT DO YOU NOW SAY OR NOT SAY OR DO OR NOT DO WHEN YOU KNOW THAT SOMEONE IS EXPERIENCING GRIEF AND DEATH?
I would never say “let  me know if there’s something you need/want”. It puts the onus on the one grieving. I didn’t know what I needed or wanted. I was numb.

WERE THERE ANY BOOKS, MOVIES, MUSIC, OR ART THAT HELPED YOU DURING YOUR MOST ACUTE TIMES OF GRIEF? ANY THAT ARE HELPFUL FOR YOU NOW AS YOU CONTINUE TO GRIEVE?
There’s a show called “After Life” with Ricky Gervais whose wife has died and he’s dealing with going on. I don’t know if it helped but I related to it a lot.

I also got a lot out of “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis.

IS THERE A LYRIC OR A MOTTO OR A QUOTE THAT’S BEEN WITH YOU DURING YOUR GRIEF?
“Like a long lonely stream I keep running towards a dream. 
Like a branch on a tree I keep reaching to be free. 
Cause there’s a place in the sun where there’s hope for everyone. 
Where my poor restless heart’s gotta run 
and before my life is done, gotta find me a place in the sun.” 
—Stevie Wonder

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”
—Edna St Vincent Millay

HAVE YOU DEVELOPED ANY RITUALS OR TRADITIONS AROUND YOUR GRIEF OR AROUND CARA’S DEATH?
I try to be the person I was with her, I don’t always accomplish it, but I try.

I think of her while making some of her favorite meals, listening to her favorite records, I see her everywhere I look.

WHAT’S YOUR MOST PRESENT NEED, DESIRE, OR HOPE RIGHT NOW WITH RESPECT TO YOUR GRIEF?
I don’t know. Somedays it feels like a lifetime ago and others it was yesterday. Today I’m going to listen to some of Cara’s favorite records and think about how much I miss her and the special love we shared.

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU MOST WISH YOU COULD DO WITH CARA, OR THAT YOU WISH YOU COULD SAY TO HER? OR –  IF YOU COULD SPEND ONE MORE DAY WITH CARA, WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
Everything.

If I had one more day with Cara I would want to spend it at the beach (Puget Sound beach with rocks and kinda cold; not a tropical sandy beach), we’d be holding hands and just chatting about nothing. Stopping every once in a while to throw a stick to Stella and look at the water. 

DO YOU HAVE A GRIEVER’S “P.S.”? SOMETHING YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SHARE THAT I DIDN’T KNOW TO ASK?
Grief and grieving is such a personal experience that no two people will ever feel exactly the same. I think that I am a private and quiet person and really don’t like the spotlight on me at all. So sharing these thoughts and feelings is hard for me. But good, thank you for letting me be a part of this. I am grateful for the opportunity to think deeper about my grief and to write it down.

P.P.S.
Looking back while filling out this dossier on the anniversary of Cara’s death was good and cathartic; it did not paint a full picture of myself or where I am at personally. I’m doing as good as I can be for going through what I went through with seeing Cara get sick and then sicker and watching her die.

Since Cara passed I have taken the time to reevaluate my life and reassess what was important to me. I quit my job and opted for one that directly helped people and when the pandemic hit I changed courses again and am now “semi-retired” working part time and spending winters in Mexico. I’ve met an amazing woman who loves and supports me and my grief. I feel very lucky to have found someone who is game for crazy adventures and travel. I am continually working on myself and who I’ve become since Cara passed. I want to be the person she saw and strive for that daily. We’ve all heard “life is short, live for today” but when you see someone so young and so full of life die it really hits home. Money isn’t as important as life experiences. A career isn’t as important as a meaningful existence.

ED NOTE: The summer before Cara died, she let folks know that what she really wanted was to see the A Frames, the Spits, and Jonathan Richman on one band. A sort of private, punk rock Make a Wish kind of thing. The first two were easy asks—still, no one was all that surprised when she also managed to get Richman to come all the way to Seattle to open the show. This is Cara watching the A Frames (who happen to be my husband’s band, and who had quietly de-banded a few years before this show) from backstage that night.