Have you ever had an album enter your life at exactly the right time? It’s hard to describe the feeling of an artist’s story precisely aligning with the circumstances of your personal life. When you’re stumbling in the dark, hearing someone put words to a struggle you cannot articulate is incredibly validating. We’re all walking a different path through life, but we all deal with grief, loss, and doubt along the way.
On April 30, 2024, my father-in-law Andy passed away after a prolonged battle with cancer. Three weeks later, The Story So Far released an album with one central theme: the passing of lead singer Parker Cannon’s father, who died after a prolonged battle with cancer. If you’ve ever lost someone close to you after an extended terminal diagnosis, you know the strange mix of feelings that comes in the wake of their death.
On one hand, their suffering is over. No more chemotherapy or medication or wondering when the curtain will close. And you no longer have to watch someone you love dissolve in front of you through a combination of disease and horrifying side effects from the treatment.
The other side of the coin: they’re gone and they’re not coming back. Spending time with even a shadow of the person they once were is immeasurably better than the alternative. You will never have another conversation with them again. What were your last words to them? Did they know how much you cared and what they meant to you?
And most importantly: how the fuck do I just move forward with this gaping hole in my life?
I adore this album because it mirrors many of the feelings I struggled to sift through in the days following Andy’s passing. The vocals won’t be for everyone, but even if you struggle with the pop-punk affect, the lyrics hit home. Here’s a line from the chorus in “You’re Still in My Way“:
It’s racing around inside my head / All of the things I could have said / And I’ll do anything to keep your life around
Tucked under the upbeat rhythms, shimmering power chords, and confident vocals, Cannon is trying to find a path forward after suffering an immense loss. He’s adrift and looking for anything that might help ground him to the memory of his dad now that he’s gone.
Throughout the album, he wrestles with feelings of guilt, anxiety, grief, and even irrational anger toward the people closest to him — including his father. On “Jump the Gun,” he’s angry at his father for dying and wonders why we need to drag this out. If you’ve lived it, you know this feeling is both irrational and completely fucking accurate.
So if you’re done / Just get out / Leave me on my own / I’ll figure it out
Similarly, on the album opener “All This Time,” he covers the whole range of emotions. From the first verse:
All this time you’ve just been counting down / Making plans for when you’re not around
It’s jarring when people start talking about a future that doesn’t include them. Encouraging you to go on vacations that they never could. Talking about renovating their condo with the life insurance money you’ll collect when they pass. The dying have accepted their fate, but we — the people closest to them — have not or simply cannot. You aren’t sure who to lash out at, you just know you’re angry.
And yet, by the end of the song Cannon is singing about how carrying the memory of his father every day will make him a better man.
Nothing standing in my way / I think of you every day / And if there is a better way / I trust that you’ll show it to me
I think about that line a lot. I’m a better man for knowing Andy. When I find myself in a dark place, I think of him and the other people I’ve lost along the way and imagine them at my back, cheering me on and giving me words of encouragement.
If we carry their spirit with us after they pass — their words of wisdom, their idiosyncrasies, and their love — they’re never truly gone.
Follow the Good Tunes for Dark Times Instagram or check out the playlist on Apple Music or Spotify, which is updated regularly (or whenever I get to it, cut me some slack, sheesh).
Leave a Reply