“WEIRD AL” YANKOVIC—MUSICIAN, ACTOR, DIRECTOR
It’s always hard for me to relive my parents’ deaths because it was the singular most traumatic thing that ever happened to me and I still feel the pain to this day. The shock has worn off, for the most part, but it’s a pain that I still carry with me.
I was on the road and I got a phone call from my wife, in tears. I thought at the time that if she called up in tears, “Oh, her bird died. This is horrible.” It turned out, my parents both had passed away because of the flue being closed in their house and they had the fireplace going. They both died from carbon monoxide poisoning.
It was, obviously, horrible. I could barely function, but I figured I had a responsibility. I had a show that night. I was in the middle of a tour. I had a small army of people depending on me, so I put my blinders on and I went into denial mode. I basically went onstage every single night, did the full show, acted like everything was just fine, but afterward—no meet and greets, no nothing. I just went and collapsed and just was a sobbing mess. In a way, it kind of got me through it because I needed denial at that point. It was just too much for me to accept. I was able to, for a couple hours every night, to have a break from the horror of my situation. Every now and then I’d have a lyric talking about my mother or whatever, and then I’d be like, “Ohhh.”
I’ve heard from so many people over the years that my music has gotten them through a very hard, trying time of their life. I thought, “Well, maybe it’ll do the same for me.” In a way, it did. Here’s the thing, I always knew intellectually that someday my parents were going to pass away and I’d have to deal with it, but I never thought it would be out of the blue and at the same time.
Also, I thought I’d be able to deal with my grief very privately, but instead, it became a worldwide news story. I didn’t want people walking on eggshells around me. I didn’t want people treating me differently. I was doing a comedy show every night. I didn’t want people going there and feeling sorry for me.
I think the first night, I don’t even know if my crew knew. I think maybe the guys in my band knew. Then, it became a headline on CNN, so at that point everybody knew. We had a slide that we showed before the show started, saying: “Tonight’s performance is in honor of my parents.” It was sort of like dealing with the eight-hundred-pound gorilla and getting it out there. At that point, we did the show as normal. The outpouring of support from the fans was just unbelievable. I didn’t ever think I’d want to share my grief with people, but it really was cathartic and was nice to know that people had my back.
MOLLY SHANNON—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
My dad raised two kids by himself. My mom died when I was four and a half, so it was hard on him. He was a single dad left with a four-year-old and a six-year-old. My little sister Katy was also killed in that car accident, and he was driving.
It was a station wagon, and it was late at night, and he was going to drop my cousin off, and my aunt let our cousin’s friend go with us too. My dad and I talked about it later. I think he would have liked my mom to drive, but she was like, “No, you can drive.”
I don’t know if he nodded off. I don’t know what happened, but at that time, they didn’t have breakaway lampposts, so he just smashed into it. Nowadays they’ll bend, or they’ll break away. My mom was in the front and he was in the front. My sister and I were in the very back of the station wagon, so we were bruised up, but my baby sister, Katy, and my cousin Fran were in the middle, so they were killed. It was very sad.
We went to the hospital, and I remember having a fantasy that they were still alive. My sister and I were in beds next to one another in the hospital, and developmentally there’s such a big difference between a six-year-old understanding what’s going on, and a four-year-old. I was really out of it, in fantasy, like, “They must be somewhere else up there, on a different floor.” My sister kind of knew what had happened, and kind of had to answer questions and talk to people. She was the one that was the most with it. Basically, I remember thinking, “I want to go see Katy.” I really wanted to see my baby sister, because I thought she must be with the other babies.
There were a lot of kids on our floor and I was helping them. They didn’t have parents coming to visit them, so I helped those kids. I remember playing with them, and helping them, and I think that’s instantly where I went to. Then there were all these people bringing us toys and all that stuff. I was like, “Why are all these people bringing us toys?” Relatives bringing us toys, and then I said, “I really want to go see my mom and my sister now.” I assumed they were alive. I finally put on my robe and wanted to go see them.
They were like, “I’m so sorry.…” I think an aunt told me or something. “We’re so sorry, but they’ve gone to heaven.” I was like, “What? Can we get there? Could we fly there, or take a hot air balloon, or could we take an airplane?” I just couldn’t accept the fact that we couldn’t get there. I kind of kept on that for a long time. It’s very complicated, but I think there’s no way that you can take that in. It would just annihilate you when you’re that little, so you just kind of go into some fantasy of waiting and waiting.
Then in the night, I remember screaming, “I want my mommy!” I just remember feeling so deflated.
Marc
Did you envy people who had moms? Did you have anger?
Molly
I was so close to my dad that I didn’t really feel that way, but I remember if a teacher put her arm on me, I was like, “That feels so good.” It made me feel really shy. I think for teachers like in third grade, I didn’t want to get too close, so I would act really bad, just so I could be in control. I was like, “I could act bad so that way I’m in charge.” Does that make sense?
I think when you’re that little, you feel like you must have done something wrong to make them leave. You’re too self-centered, so you think you must have done something wrong.
I have a different take on everything now. I feel so lucky. I feel like I don’t take things for granted at all, because I feel like, “Oh my God, I pulled myself up out of the wreckage, and I created a life for myself, and now I’m a mom, and I have children, and I got help for myself so that I can start my own family.” It’s a miracle. My sister and I talk about it. We feel really lucky. It might not have gone that way, you know?
ARTIE LANGE—COMEDIAN, WRITER, ACTOR, RADIO HOST
My father was a very blue-collar guy. He climbed roofs for a living. He got to about ninth grade, my father. He grew up on the street in Newark. The toughest, most street-smart guy I ever knew in my life. I looked up to him. He was like my best friend but too much of a best friend. You find that out later in life.