Alicia Crockett knew something was wrong with her
pregnancy. All the tests said otherwise, that everything was fine, but
she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of unease.
“I couldn’t describe
it. I couldn’t even tell you, to this day, what was going on,” she says.
“But I’ve never laid on the bathroom floor in tears, sobbing, so many
times in my life.”
At the time, she
thought it might just be the nervous insecurity a lot of expectant
mothers experience. Health concerns were part of it, too: Chiron, Alicia
and her singer-songwriter husband Lincoln’s then-3-year-old son, was
born with cystic fibrosis, and they were aware the chances of having
another child with the disease were high.
Her anxiety was
foreshadowing something much worse: Joseph Phoenix Crockett died shortly
after birth, asphyxiating on his umbilical cord.
It’s a nightmarish
story, one that would leave most parents emotionally shattered. Sitting
in the dining room of their brick-lined Northeast Portland home one year
later, however, the Crocketts hardly seem like broken people. They
smile and laugh easily. It’s not denial; in fact, it’s the exact
opposite. Already spiritual folks—Lincoln dabbles in “energy
healing”—the couple sought meaning in Joseph’s death. In doing so, they
came across two organizations, the Dougy Center and Grief Watch, which
assist the recently bereaved in coping with loss. Grieving, the
Crocketts learned, is a process too many people deny themselves, causing
depression to calcify into a burden carried around for years.
“The tragedy isn’t
whether somebody lives or dies,” Lincoln says. “The real tragedy is if
somebody does die and the living are lost in that pain.”
Through
the help of those programs, the Crocketts began to heal. In processing
their ordeal, the purpose of Joseph’s all-too-brief life opened up to
them. For Alicia, it led her to find her calling, in what she calls
“grief coaching.” And for Lincoln, it confirmed his job description as a
musician: “To help people be healthy and happy and deal with life.”
Lincoln Crockett grew
up in a musical family: His dad was a church organist and avid jazz
fan. He didn’t start writing songs until after college, when he took a
job at an outdoor education school in Colorado. In the mountains,
without easy access to amplifiers, he was forced to buy an acoustic
guitar. Then he tried a mandolin. After moving to Portland in 2000, he
joined the popular bluegrass party band Cross-eyed Rosie. In 2006, in
the instrument-check room of the RiverCity Bluegrass Festival, he met
Alicia. Within three months, she was pregnant with Chiron. A year and a
half later, they married.
Around the time of
their marriage, Cross-eyed Rosie went on hiatus. “I had all kinds of
modern angst the band wasn’t interested in,” Lincoln says. He poured
that angst, and every ounce of creative energy, into his first solo
album, 2007’s Angels & Devils Alike. However, not wanting to
be on the road, away from Alicia and his young son, Lincoln didn’t try
to spin the album into a career. In 2010, he digitally released two
more, less-labored-over records, then went to Thailand with his family
for five months, unsure if he’d ever record anything again. Soon after
returning to Portland, Alicia found out she was pregnant for the second
time.
In the aftermath of
Joseph’s death, Lincoln is just starting to think about a new album. He
says the experiences of the past year haven’t changed him as a
songwriter. He does, however, admit the tragedy produced a first for
him: He’s written a song he’s not sure he can play live. It’s about
Joseph. He wants to perform it at this week’s benefit, but in practice,
he’s yet to get through without crying.
“If I’m going to do it,” he says, “I have to be willing to completely break down.”
It will certainly be
difficult. But what could help those mourning their own loss better than
showing them the light on the other end of heartache?
“There’s always beauty mixed in with the pain,” Alicia says. “If you know how to look for it, you can find it.”
SEE IT: Lincoln Crockett plays the Old Church, 1422 SW 11th Ave., on Saturday, Feb. 18, with Chris Kokesh. 7:30 7 pm. $15. All ages.
Just an FYI...The show starts at 7pm and not 7:30pm. Thanks Matthew and Willy Week.
Beautiful article. Thanks Willy Week. Much love to you guys!
Wonderful article. Laural reported that the concert was GREAT and that you made it through your very moving song as the audience wept.
Love, Aunt Beth