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Losing a child is the most devastating experience for a parent.
No other loss compares. To wake up each morning to the knowledge
that he is no longer in our life borders on unbearable. George
and I are grateful to Lorca for having chosen us to be his
parents and we thank him for all the joy and love he brought
into our lives. But we are so deeply saddened that his life
is over, that he did not get the recognition he so deserved
as a person and as an artist. In addition to the hole his
absence has created in our lives and in our hearts, gone are
the usual anticipations of parenthood. We will never see him
meet his bride at the end of the aisle. We will never know
the joy of holding his children in our arms. We are left to
wonder what could have been in his future. We are left to
mourn the loss of a promising life.
We live now with only memories. Memories of his first step,
his first word, his first day at school (he wasn’t happy
about it), and his many accomplishments. Memories of how his
eyes would squint when he smiled, his big bear hugs, his telephone-itis.
George had the opportunity to attend many of Lorca’s
performances over the years which have left him with pride
in our son and many amusing recollections. Among many of the
“stories” that came out of Lorca’s performances,
he would like to share one here. Lorca was playing at Kenny’s
Castaways in Greenwich Village. George was at the bar with
Lorca’s friend Vince. As the set went into their second
song, Vince and George noticed that the members of other bands
performing in the area had started to come in to listen to
this guitar player that they had heard about. Up until his
solo, the other musicians didn’t seem terribly impressed
by the band Lorca was playing with. But then Lorca and his
powerful guitar took control. He went into his solo. The other
musicians were paying attention. It was at that point also
that the people in the room who had been less than animated
began to filter on to the dance floor. Lorca’s playing
had now taken over the room. He had reached both the musicians
who wanted to hear him play and the patrons who were moved
to dance to his music.
I only saw him perform once - at Wetlands. I always shied
away from showing up because I worried that he wouldn’t
really be comfortable with his “mother” as a fan.
But I definitely was his biggest “fan.” Although
I suffer great regret at not having been at more performances,
I have other, very special memories. His birth. His last days.
The numerous times he would play his latest songs for me in
our living room. And in my mind’s eye, I can vividly
recall watching him come down the slopes of many a mountain,
or visualize his approach toward me on any given street. Yes,
he was cocky; but he moved with grace. Lorca was indeed a
very special individual with numerous talents. Although he
wasn’t big on team sports, he was athletically agile.
He was an accomplished skateboarder, skier, bike-racer, swimmer
and kung-fu practitioner – not to mention his break-dancing!
Throughout his life it seemed to us that when he did find
an activity he liked and enjoyed he would practice and practice
until he mastered it. Of course his biggest accomplishment
was his mastery of music. Music was his life’s breath,
his reason for living. He loved making music, listening to
music and learning about music and musicians – classical
to rock and most music forms in between.
Life will never be the same for us. When Lorca died, a part
of each of us died, too. We hold on dearly to his guitars
and recording equipment, his bicycle, his books, his racing
trophies. His death was the result of a senseless act of negligence.
The hit-and-run driver had six other lanes he could have turned
into but instead he struck our son. I spend unaccountable
hours trying to figure it out – weren’t his lights
on, wasn’t he paying attention to the road, how could
he have not seen Lorca?
Lorca’s life was cut short at the age of 24, on the eve
of his adulthood. He was excited about some new songs he was
working on. He was thinking about returning back home to New
York. Life as we knew it is no more. Yet life does go on for
us – we just approach our days a bit more gingerly. We
are more somber and more loving toward one another. But the
memory of Lorca and the person he was is the reason we created
this Music Fund. Lorca was passionate about life, passionate
about music, passionate about his friendships and relationships.
In fact, his brother Ezra summed it up in his eulogy when
he said, “Jason and I are not the only ones who lost
a brother today. Because if you knew Lorca, you lost a brother,
too.”
Not only do we believe in the “universal language of
music” as a necessary social and cultural ingredient,
but we believe in the scholars who say that a personal involvement
with music is linked to richer development and higher scores
across the academic curriculum. In addition, music is finally
being recognized as a powerful medium for health and healing.
Many cultures have used the music of bells, chimes and chanting
in their healing ceremonies for centuries. However, in the
United States today, in too many schools music is considered
optional or elective and thereby has become expendable. But
Lorca lived for music. What better legacy than helping to
add music education to the lives of young children.
Thank you for visiting. Please see our “Gifts” section
to see what it is we do in his honor. Please see our “Contacts”
section if you would like to make a tax-deductible contribution.
And we invite you to share your memories of Lorca. Send us
an e-mail and we’ll add your story to our “Reflections”
section.
Lorca's Mother, Nancy
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