New music automatically saved on my Spotify at midnight on Friday, April 19th. No, not Taylor Swift. Pearl Jam. I’ve been waiting in anticipation for Pearl Jam’s latest album, Dark Matter, and not just because I’m a fan of their music.
My dad, Joel Kaplan, died by suicide six years ago on March 15, 2018. While he was physically alone when he passed, Eddie Vedder’s voice, Mike McCreedy and Stone Gossard’s guitars, Jeff Ament’s bass, and Matt Cameron’s drums shook the entire townhouse – they had been shaking up his residences ever since Pearl Jam formed in the ’90s.
When the band had a special interview and performance with Howard Stern on Friday morning, I nustled in at my desk, flipped open my work laptop, and just listened. Minutes in, I felt a tear stream down my face. I was engrossed in the interview and excited to hear a new song “live” for the first time.
I felt the urge to text my dad to react in real-time to Eddie and Howard’s back-and-forths and share our favorite hits and misses from the album—many of our daily conversations revolved around music. It hit me like a brick: This new music is not only bringing a new wave of sounds into my brain but a new wave of grief.
Me in fourth grade with my Dad at my first Pearl Jam concert.
Some of my fondest memories
In association with Dark Matter, Pearl Jam announced a North American tour. The group is returning to Chicago’s Wrigley Field, where I share some of the fondest memories with my dad, and Madison Square Garden in NYC, where I reside, immediately after Experience Camps. As fans continue to encounter these days, getting tickets to see their favorite band can be a pain. Ticketmaster is shutting down, fan clubs are doing you dirty, and the hiccups are endless.
When my dad passed away, one of the first things his friend said to me was that I must take over his Ten Club membership, which is the band’s official fan club named after their first album, Ten. My dad is one of the oldest fan club members and, with seniority, brings elite and priority tickets!
Or so I was told. What proceeds may sound selfish, but feelings can be greedy. I had requested tickets to four shows and only received one – I prematurely put all four dates on my calendar because I felt entitled to be in Pearl Jam’s presence every night. People told me repeatedly that I’d always get tickets to whatever concert I preferred because of Joel Kaplan’s status. Feeling punched in the stomach by Pearl Jam felt like being punched in the stomach by my dad.
By age 4, I was already rocking out with my Dad.
A complicated relationship
My entire life, I felt let down by my father, and it really damaged our relationship. We always connected over music. Even when I was a newborn baby, he rocked me to Pearl Jam, as it seems that was the root of most of his friendships. However, I confided in him as I got older. That was something I cherished and longed for with him my entire life. I finally had it, and then it slipped away like sand through my fingers.
Over the years leading up to his death, my dad continued to disappoint me. Whether it was the way he was carrying himself in real life or on social media, I became embarrassed of him. These weren’t your typical father-embarrassing daughter moments — it was different. I don’t think I ever truly knew who my dad was, but I knew in those moments that this for sure was not him.
Concerts were our common ground
It’s hard to think of the good times we shared that didn’t revolve around music. When someone asks me what my favorite memories are with my dad, I simply say concerts. It’s an easy answer for me. We had the best times together — it was common ground. When I look back at those memories, I see my dad watching me rock out beside him with a giant smile on his face, and in those moments, I forget about the letdowns. Truthfully, there was no way he could disappoint me when we were together doing what we love.
Not having the chance to see Pearl Jam at every opportunity presented (within reason, of course) sparks a heartbreaking association: I wanted Pearl Jam to show up for me, just like I longed for with my dad.
There’s a song on the album called “Waiting For Stevie,” easily my favorite, and it starts with the lyrics:
You can be loved by everyone
And still not feel, not feel love
The last time I saw my dad was before I left for New York City in December of 2017 after graduation. He was supposed to drive me to the airport, but bailed at the last minute. He did this a lot — say he’d do something and then bail at the last second. He was supposed to take his daughter to the airport to start the next adventure in her life, and he dodged it. The last in-person memory I have of him is being upset and disappointed. Three months later, we’d lose him to suicide.
Embracing the rollercoaster
All I ever wanted was to feel loved by my dad, and the loss of his presence is front and center whenever Pearl Jam is involved. This new music has brought a wave of new emotions, but I’m trying to sit in it and embrace the rollercoaster of love, loss, excitement, and hurt.
I’m training my mind to focus on the positive: I am seeing Pearl Jam at our favorite venue, Wrigley Field. I have incredible seats, and I can’t wait to experience the magic and feel my dad’s presence through Eddie Vedder’s voice, only hundreds of feet in front of me.
Joel Kaplan, I’ll see you there.
Betsy Kaplan has been volunteering with Experience Camps since 2021 and is our Program Director at Experience Camps in Michigan. She joined the Experience Camps community after her father died by suicide in 2018. Betsy is also a member of our NYC Regional Advisory Council, where she serves on multiple committees, including the Experience: NY Gala. Outside of camp, Betsy is an Associate Director of Strategic Communications representing spirits brands. She enjoys traveling, writing, reading, dog-sitting, and exploring new restaurants and cuisines.
