Fly a Little Higher

by Laura Sobiech

  Justin pulled me into Zach’s bedroom. He had his cell phone in his hand and was pulling something up.

  “I have to show you what we’ve been working on,” he said.

  Then he handed me the phone and tapped Play. It was a video of various celebrities lip-syncing to “Clouds.” There were musicians I knew Zach loved, and actors and actresses from shows that Zach loved watching. It was incredible to think that all these people took the time to do this for Zach, but equally incredible that Zach’s song had reached them.

  “We would really love to have Zach’s close friends and family members in the video as well,” Justin said. “I just think that would mean the world to him.”

  “Really? You want each of us to video ourselves singing ‘Clouds’?” I imagined how that might go with the kids and Rob. I would have to do some convincing, and it wasn’t something I was thrilled about doing either. It had been a really long day, and now we would have to sneak around the house and video ourselves singing.

  “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll get everyone together, and we’ll do it.”

  I went down to Alli’s room and tapped on the door. “Hey, Al? I have to ask you for one more thing tonight.”

  She opened the door. “What?” Collin’s face was on the screen of her computer that lay on her bed.

  “Hey, Collin.” I waved as I stepped into the room. He waved back.

  “Justin wants us to video ourselves singing ‘Clouds.’ It’s a surprise for Zach.”

  “Yeah. I can do that. Where should we go so Zach doesn’t see us?”

  I was relieved by her willingness to participate. Things were so much easier when Alli was on board; she had a way of rallying the kids together when she wanted to get things done. She said good-bye to Collin and shut the computer screen down, then we got everyone together in our master bedroom. I explained the video that Justin was putting together as a surprise for Zach and told the rest of the family what he wanted us to do. I was surprised at how little cajoling it took to convince them all to participate.

  “I suppose Dad and I can be the first to do it,” I whined.

  “I’ll take the video.” Alli took my iPod off the dresser and knelt at the foot of the bed. Rob and I took our places.

  “Somebody should get Daisy. She should be in the video,” Grace said.

  “I haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably downstairs in the interview chair.” Sam chuckled. Daisy had managed to make her way into a lot of footage.

  “Yeah, she’s probably down there right now spilling all the deep, dark family secrets,” Alli said, laughing.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” Alli positioned herself at the end of the bed. I had my computer with the song ready to play. “On three. One, two, three . . .”

  Rob and I started to sing the song. It was horrible. Rob forgot the words, and I kept laughing. After several false starts, we finally sang through the entire song. Everyone piled on the bed and watched what we had recorded.

  Rob and I looked terrible! All five of us broke into peals of laughter at the sight.

  “Hey, guys, we need to keep it down,” Rob said. “We don’t want Zach to find us.” Zach was hanging out with Sammy and Mitch and the crew in the family room downstairs.

  “Rob! You look like you’re drunk! Next time try sitting up a little,” I scolded. “And I look like a ninny . . . blech. Redo!” I handed the iPod back to Alli.

  After several more takes, we finally got something we thought would work. By then we were all a little punchy and weren’t taking things too seriously. Alli and Sam were up next. It was a minor miracle we got through their session at all. Sam kept breaking out into goofy hand gestures while Alli fought to keep a straight face. Grace nailed hers on the first run. Get in, get out was more her style. She wasn’t interested in shenanigans.

  As I uploaded the footage and sent it to the editor in Los Angeles, I realized what an answer to prayer this little project had been. We had been so polarized lately and hadn’t come together like that and just laughed in such a long time. It was a relief to know that we still knew how.

  The next day before the house filled up with people, I took Zach aside. I knew he had sensed some of the tension, though we’d tried to shield him from it.

  “If Alli seems edgy it’s because she is under tons of stress and having a hard time with all the chaos and cameras,” I explained. “She’s better after last night’s interview, but it’s still tough. She misses you.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Zach responded. “I get it. It’s not like we’ve had a whole lot of time to relax and get away from everything.”

  Zach had been going constantly. That morning Amy had surprised him with a trip to the Viking’s stadium where she had a picnic ready for him on the fifty-yard line to replace the one they missed when his lung collapsed the previous summer. When they got home, a camera crew from a local station was waiting for them in the kitchen; they wanted to do a story about the “Hollywood” crew that was doing a documentary on Zach. So he understood the chaos, and he understood feeling disconnected from the family.

  Later in the evening the crew came back, and the house began to fill up with people. Sammy, Mitch, and Amy had come to hang out for a while, and they were all in the kitchen when Alli walked in the door after a long day at class. She hung up her coat and set her backpack on the chair by the front door, then kicked off her boots and went to the kitchen to get something to eat. Her class had run late and she missed dinner.

  Zach had just reached up and pulled a mug from the cupboard when Alli stepped up to the counter. While the cameras were rolling, Zach pulled Alli into a hug.

  Alli described the moment in her blog series, Married in the Mourning, Sailing with the Knight:

  But here, this hug. This is what made me let it all go: the anger, the self-pitying, and my misconceptions about the filmmakers. If you watch the three seconds of this clip, you’ll see me rolling my eyes. I was annoyed, I felt like Zach was trying to create some sort of fakey scene to show how “loving” our family was. But here’s the kicker: this hug was the most genuine hug he had ever given me. I could tell he knew I was having a hard time with the documentary, the cameras, the cancer. He knew, quite simply, that I just needed a great, big, brotherly hug.

  At this moment, here in this picture, I had a pretty intense revelation: that this wasn’t about me, this wasn’t even about our family, it was about my brother’s message, and darn it he deserved to tell it to the world. I wasn’t even sure exactly what the message was at the time, none of us were sure. But I discovered that despite death, there is love. That even if your life is totally derailed, there are moments, like this hug, that bring you back. You just have to look for them. And when you find those moments, they change you and your perceptions.

  Cancer causes a lot of things. For me, it amplified my personal flaws and made me deal with them head-on. Whenever I see this clip, I get a little embarrassed because I think, “If only they knew what I was thinking before this . . .” In all honesty, I am still dealing with a little anger, a bit of selfishness, and a tad of resentment because of Zach’s death, but I’ve figured out a lot. And if I had to reduce what Zach did for me in one moment, summed up in one photo, this would be it. He helped me let go.

  Things changed after that. Alli was freed to see the good that could come from Zach’s message of hope being shared with the world. It didn’t mean that she always agreed with the methods, but it allowed her to honor what Zach was trying to do.

  Our week with the crew from My Last Days was a lot of things. It was emotional, agonizing, and exhausting. It was fun, exhilarating, and enlightening. But most of all, it was a week of healing. It was a time of scraping away the misunderstanding and hurt and starting out new, like an infected wound that had been cleaned and now could heal properly. We were able to look into an uncertain future with less fear because we were stronger together, and would face it together.

  As we said our long good-bye to the crew, sad to
see them go, it was clear that they would walk away changed as well. Each of them expressed their deepest gratitude to our family for what we had given them. They had seen a family that was real, with real people who struggled with some hard stuff. But who also, through it all, chose to have hope in the midst of suffering. Who didn’t give up on life because life was hard, but sought to understand and looked for meaning in all the little crevices. And a family who learned to trust that God’s hand was guiding it all.

  They also saw a boy who had every reason to despair, yet chose instead to hope and love. A boy who could have chosen to indulge but chose to honor instead. And a boy who understood that a simple smile given to a stranger could change the world. A boy who taught them they didn’t have to find out they were dying to start living.

  Thirty

  February 10, 2013

  IT WAS SUNDAY NIGHT. ZACH FOUND ME IN THE FAMILY ROOM KNITTING a pair of socks with my iPod earbuds in my ears. I was listening to Zach and Sammy’s new Fix Me Up EP that Karl had mastered and sent over a few days earlier. Sammy and Reed had come over earlier in the day to practice for the big release party/Zach Sobiech Osteosarcoma Fund benefit that was scheduled the following Saturday.

  It was two days after Justin and the crew left. We already missed them; they had truly become friends. But we were happy to have the peace and quiet of home life back. I’d spent the previous day putting the house in order. We’d had a house full of family and friends the last night the crew was in town. Partly so everyone could meet them and partly to surprise Zach with the big celebrity tribute video that featured several musicians and actors: Jason Mraz, Bryan Cranston, Passenger, the Lumineers, Jenna Elfman, Rainn Wilson, and several others. It had been an incredible night full of laughter and camaraderie.

  “Mom.” He sat down on the couch next to me. “I think I’m done with school.”

  He was dressed in his favorite skinny jeans that were too short, wool socks, and a plaid shirt. Daisy hopped up on the couch and crawled into his lap. He stroked her head, and she closed her eyes and nuzzled in.

  “Any particular reason? Is everything okay?”

  “I just don’t see the point anymore. It’s become more of a hassle than a constructive way to use my time. I’m just ready to be done.”

  “Getting tired?”

  “Yeah. I’m just ready to settle down. The media stuff is great and everything, but I think I need to step back and focus on the family and my friends. I’m tired of being pulled in so many different directions.”

  He had obviously given it a lot of thought and was certain of the decision.

  “What about the Varsity event? You don’t have to play that night if it seems like too much. There isn’t a soul on the face of the earth who wouldn’t understand.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and looked at me with a mischievous grin.

  “Well, Mom. Let’s not get crazy,” he chided. “There’s no way I’d miss that.”

  February 16, 2013

  THE VARSITY THEATER, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

  It was two o’clock and freezing cold. Zach and Sammy stood on the sidewalk under the iconic Varsity Theater marquee, which read:

  Up, Up, Up

  A concert for Zach with Vicci Martinez

  “Now that’s cool,” Zach said as he adjusted his tie. He looked sharp in a black shirt and gray vest. The colors accentuated how pale he was, but it wasn’t hard to miss the excitement in his eyes. “Any last words before we go inside?”

  “Just three,” Sammy said.

  Zach nodded.

  “Don’t screw up,” they said in unison.

  They stepped inside and looked around. The Varsity was a big, empty room with huge, dusty chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. A second-floor balcony surrounded the main floor, a blue-lit stage at the front of the space. The place was abuzz with activity as sound techs and members of the other participating bands hustled around to get ready for sound checks. Rock the Cause employees manned a merchandise table filled with A Firm Handshake CDs and T-shirts.

  As I watched the goings-on, Vicci Martinez came up beside me. I introduced myself to her and thanked her for coming. “No, this is cool,” she said. “And probably the most important show of my career.”

  Zach surveyed the room. “Exactly how many people are coming to this thing?” He looked a little surprised by the size, maybe even a little nervous. Sammy did too.

  “Well, the room holds over twelve hundred and the show sold out in seventy-two hours,” Scott said. He’d seen us enter the room and made his way over to us. He had a clipboard in his hand and a spreadsheet of all the bands and their sound check times.

  “Sold out?” Zach asked.

  “You’re a hot ticket,” Scott said. “KS95 has been advertising the event for weeks. Everyone wants to help you celebrate the release of your EP and raise money for the fund. Your sound check starts in five minutes. You kids ready?”

  Zach grinned. “Let’s do this.”

  Over the next few hours, all the bands took their turns with sound checks. Some of the bands were long established in the Twin Cities market. Others were up-and-coming high school bands, like the Swedish Revival. Everyone was excited.

  By six o’clock, a line had formed out on the sidewalk and around the block. Hundreds of people stood huddled against the cold—hearty Minnesotans having chosen to leave their jackets in their cars. They jumped up and down and pounded on the doors until Scott Herold gave the okay for them to be opened. The people flooded into the warm room. I stood on the steps that led to the balcony where we had a semiprivate section for our family and those who had been involved with the production of the EP and “Clouds.” Given the size of our family and friends and the number of people who had been part of the production, the balcony was already packed with people chattering with excited anticipation.

  I watched as throngs of people handed over their tickets and entered the room. There were familiar faces; at least seventy of Zach’s and Sammy’s friends and classmates came through the doors. Friends I hadn’t seen in ages, some since high school, waved as they came in from the cold. Nurses and doctors who had treated Zach had also braved the cold to support him. I was most touched to see Lance’s mom, Laurie, come in. It had only been four months since Lance’s death, and I was encouraged to see her looking well. I left my perch to worm my way through the crowd and give her a hug.

  There were many unfamiliar faces as well. I felt like a celebrity as I worked my way through the crowded space.

  “Is that Zach’s mom?” I would hear people yelling into each other’s ears as the din in the room grew louder. A few of them stopped me to tell me how much they loved Zach’s music and what a profound effect he’d had on them. “You must be so proud of him,” they would say. Of course, I agreed. I couldn’t have been more proud.

  There were people from all walks of life and every age group. There were plenty of teenagers and middle-aged women. But I was surprised by how many young children were there with their parents or even grandparents.

  I remember one little girl around six years old. As I walked by where she was seated, her eyes got wide; she obviously recognized me, so I walked over to meet her. When she heard on the radio that Zach would be performing, she had begged her grandma to take her.

  On the opposite side there were two women who looked to be in their sixties who sat with an elderly woman. My sister Amy had been talking to them and heard their story. She hustled across the room to where I stood.

  “You have to come meet these ladies,” she yelled above the noise. “They have quite a story.”

  As I approached, one of the women stood to greet me.

  “This is my ninety-two-year-old mother,” she said as she gestured to the elderly woman. “When she heard that Zach would be playing tonight, she insisted on coming. She absolutely would not be talked out of it! She hardly ever gets out of the house and never stays up past nine o’clock, but she insisted on being here tonight.”

  I bent
down to introduce myself, but it was evident she couldn’t hear a word I was saying and wouldn’t take her eyes off the stage. She was here for Zach and Zach alone. My heart melted at the sight of her.

  The love and support of all these people was amazing. But those who had made it all happen were the ones I was most grateful for. This team of people had come together and used their talents to make something magical happen. This night would be the summit of Zach’s musical career.

  The room pulsed with as much energy and love as pulsed from the bass and drum. Bands played and the people danced, even making a conga line that snaked through the room. Finally, it was time for the main event.

  Rob went up to the corner of the stage and took the mic. He thanked everyone for coming and thanked everyone who had organized the night. He encouraged people to help us in our fight to wipe osteosarcoma from the planet. He amazed me with his eloquence as he stood up there pouring out his heart in front of twelve hundred people. In short, he made me incredibly proud.

  Dan Seeman followed and announced the debut of the “Fix Me Up” music video, which played on a big screen, bringing the audience to tears as Sammy and Zach sang back and forth to each other:

  Don’t you lose hope the sky’s not falling.

  Please just listen cuz I’ll be calling.

  Stay with me just one more moment.

  I know you’re in pain just please don’t show it.

  It was a very heavy reminder of why we were all there, gathered together as both musicians and audience: to watch Zach and his band play their songs, knowing that unlike so many other young musicians, this was not only the beginning of their musical journey together, but also the middle, and the end.

  As the last note lingered in the air, then fell silent, Staci, one of the DJs from KS95, took the microphone and said, “And now . . . welcome to the stage . . . Zach Sobiech . . . and his band, A Firm Handshake!”