Seeing Through the Cracks

Chapter 27

It's Friday the 13th, and I suppose I could jump on the bandwagon and believe that my day is going to be full of bad spells and poor luck, but I don't. I am too excited to see Jake to start thinking negative thoughts. And even if I hear that Jake's week has been a disaster, I can't blame it on superstition. We're also dog-sitting for the weekend, so I have a young and frisky, ninety pound Golden Labrador to keep me feeling cheerful. It's a wickedly cold day; starting at -30 degrees Celsius upon waking, and now a tepid -15. I am being facetious; the cold snap we've experienced so far this winter has been a blessing, for it has brought less snowfall, and enabled me to drive back and forth to Guelph on clear roads. Today the drive is easy, and I am able to enjoy the scenery. I have always loved the hue of the winter skies, an enthusiastic blue that awakens my visual sense, and sharpens the snowy landscape with a glistening sheen. I arrive early and get some shopping done in Guelph before Jake's last class ends.

Jake jumps into my Jeep at 5:00 p.m., his school week complete, and we make our way home. Today marks the beginning of Reading Week for the students and professors, and Jake says he's feeling a sense of relief in knowing that he gets this next week off from the obligation of school. As we drive, he also seems a bit down, to me. Generally, if he's trying to hide things from me, he's over the top enthusiastic and puts forth a front of confidence, and it always makes me suspicious. On this occasion however, he just seems a bit mournful and blue. I ask if he's taken his remedies, thinking that maybe he's forgotten it while being so focused on executing his first week independently at school. He says he's taken it and it's still helping, but that he had a difficult week emotionally. I invite him to share with me.

Jake explains that during the week that he was in residence with Nick, he'd heard that someone whose work he deeply respected and enjoyed had passed away suddenly at a young age. Jake tells me that he learned about it on the day that it happened, but didn't believe it. He was waiting for something to appear online to say that it was a prank and that the man was still alive. And after a week passed he finally accepted that it wasn't a cruel joke, and the impact of the news hit him hard.

I learn that this man was Monty Oum, and that Jake had been, for the last two and a half years following some of his work, including his creations in Anime, which is a form of Japanese animation. Anime is huge in Jake's life and it's part of the reason he wanted to visit Japan and experience Japanese culture last year. On that trip, Jake bought and brought home with him several Anime figures, and he reads, watches, and follows this animation culture closely. Accepting the loss of one of the creators was an enormous blow to him.

Monty Oum was an American, self-taught, web-based animator who produced many crossover fighting video series, which involves non-stop animation action in a few short minutes. His style caught the attention of the Internet production company Rooster Teeth, who then hired him. He created custom animations for a series called Red versus Blue, and was best known for RWBY, a web-based Anime series, all created, written, and produced by Monty himself.[6]

On the very first day of this month, Monty Oum passed away at the young age of 33 after suffering an allergic reaction during a simple medical procedure which at first left him in a coma for ten days. He had a fan base so extensive and so loyal that many came together in their grief and helped to raise over $221,000 to cover the costs of his medical and funeral expenses.[7]

Jake was a loyal fan, and idolized this man for his brilliant and very prominent work. And he found the loss to be devastating once he accepted its legitimacy. He explains to me that he had spent much of his down time during the week watching many of the videos of Monty's productions over and over, and sobbing, alone in his room.

I completely understand Jake's sense of loss. Although I didn't know Monty Oum and I didn't follow his career, I can empathize with the pain of this man's family; he died far too young, and it would seem that this was also a loss of immense talent in the entertainment world. I recall when I was pregnant with my first born, and close to my due date, learning that Freddie Mercury, lead singer of the band Queen, had died at age forty-six. I was so caught up in my world of pregnancy that I hadn't even known that he was suffering with the AIDS disease. My husband and I were cleaning up the basement much of that day, and I commented to him about the many Queen songs the radio was playing that afternoon. My husband then dropped the bombshell and told me that it was in honour of the loss of Freddie Mercury. I was devastated. The very first concert I had attended in my teens was a Queen concert. I was at an impressionable age, and I was quite captivated by the experience, immediately becoming an enthusiastic and loving fan. I didn't know Freddie personally, nor did Jake know Monty, but we really don't need to know someone intimately for them to have substantial impact on our lives. And once we saturate ourselves in their talent and their gifts, the veil of mystery disappears, and we feel a personal closeness, whether it is tangible or not. Clearly, Jake was having this experience, and I needed to offer understanding and compassion. If Jake skipped his entire week's classes to mourn the loss, it would have to be okay.

I don't want to take away this very real pain that Jake is feeling for the loss of this man he so greatly admired. I also am very aware that he has needed to cry many tears, not just for this particular tragedy, but over the losses he had not yet grieved, like the death of his grandfather, and his dog, Thunder, and the loss he experienced during his middle school years when he felt isolated. He has buckets of tears to shed, and this loss became an outlet for Jake to fully express his feelings, rather than wrapping them up tightly inside. That dam he had described to me a few weeks ago, after hearing Timothy Shriver share his story, had finally burst, and that release had been granted. Although I feel so badly for Jake in his heartache, I am relieved to see that he has found the courage to express his emotional pain. This is a necessary part of Jake's healing journey, and I have a huge appreciation for him in sharing it with me. I know I am experiencing a moment of grace. I tell him that I understand, and in a gesture of empathy I reach out to touch his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. Nothing else needs to be said.

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I spend Jake's Reading Week nursing a head cold, the result of the emotional strain of the last few months, I am sure. I receive an upsetting call early in the week from my dear friend, Marsha, who lives in Ohio. Her father has suffered a massive stroke, and the family has decided to remove him from life support. Within a couple of days, he passes away. Under any other circumstances, I would fly to my friend and give her support, but it's too critical a moment in Jake's recovery to leave him on his own, and in my condition I am in no position to travel, nor do I wish to share my germs. I feel very badly that I cannot offer more than a few comforting words by telephone, but I also must recognize my limitations. I stay home and continue to monitor where and when I am needed; I get the rest I require and wait patiently for my energy to return and for this virus to exit. I say a prayer for Marsha and her family, and tell her that I am just a phone call away if she needs to talk.

Jake spends his school break fully embracing winter, the snow, and the very cold temperatures. He is out on the slopes snowboarding for several days, both solo and with friends. He works at the pub on dishwashing duty a few nights, as well. These are two of the things Jake enjoys most: the freedom of flying down a snowy run, challenging his agility and skill, and immersing himself in the camaraderie and clattering chaos of a busy restaurant kitchen atmosphere. It is just the reprieve from school that he needs, and a good diversion to keep him from being tempted to play online video games. We talk about how it feels for Jake to be away from interactive online gaming, and although he has managed to stay free of it, he says that the desire is still deeply ingrained. He finds it difficult to not play, and he misses the online social interaction he had built, but he keeps telling himself not to give in to it. He understands it's no longer a healthy choice. There is some comfort in hearing that Jake has come to this understanding, but there is always an omnipresent sense of fragility, where at any moment Jake can succumb to this urge. That may never leave.

Thank you for following my story. Don't forget to vote on this chapter, if you enjoyed it (click the star on the bottom left). I also welcome your feedback.

Footnotes: 

 [6] 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mony_Oum

  [7] 

http://kotaku.com/rooster-teeth- animator-monty-oum-has-passed-away-the-p-1683287272

For support in video game addiction: http://gamequitters.com/