The stories of rock musicians who die young are the thing of lore and legend. Accidents, drug overdoses, plane crashes—all have taken the lives of male rock stars still in their primes. But what became of their widowed brides? How did they survive a loss so great? What is it like to have to share your grief with millions of strangers? And where are these widows today?

I Can’t Remember if I Cried is part music history, part memoir, based around interviews with rock widows conducted by Lori Tucker-Sullivan—who herself lost her husband in 2010. With each widow that Lori interviews, she learns lessons in love, forgiveness, coping, and moving on. The book is framed by the author’s own narrative to create a single thread that links the stories together to ultimately create a tale of how the author’s life is changed through her interactions with these amazing women.*

The Linden Review: What was the impetus for writing I Can’t Remember If I Cried?

Lori Tucker-Sullivan: The impetus was both the death of my husband and my wish to return to music writing, which I had set aside as a young wife and mother. After Kevin died, I wanted to continue writing. I was halfway through my MFA when he was diagnosed with head and neck squamous cell carcinoma. I put off completing my degree but finished after he passed away. At that time, my writing focused on family history. But on my way to class, I listened to a story about Yoko Ono and realized I had a newfound respect for her and all she had accomplished since John Lennon’s assassination. I began researching other widows of rock musicians and quickly created a list of twelve with compelling stories, so writing about them became my new project.

TLR: Can you tell us more about the process of selecting and interviewing women for I Can’t Remember If I Cried? Were there any widows you weren’t able to interview that you wish you could have?

Lori: I began research by consulting online sites to make a list of musicians and rock stars who died young. From there, I researched whether they were married and, if so, if I could locate their surviving spouse. I initially prioritized the list with those whose music was meaningful to my husband and me. Warren Zevon, James Honeyman-Scott of the Pretenders, Harry Chapin, Jim Croce, and Gram Parsons were at the top of the list.

I knew fairly quickly that the women I had researched had compelling stories, but I wasn’t sure if it could or would ever become a book. So, I decided just to meet and interview them as a form of grief group to understand what I could learn from them about moving on. I was also interested in learning about their late husbands whom I had, at one point in my life, hoped to interview as a music journalist. It really became a full-circle time for me.

I contacted the women, some via social media, some with direct letters sent in the mail. Nearly all of them replied back with an invitation to meet them and hear their stories. It was surprising to me that no one had previously asked them for their stories, so they were all pretty eager to share. There were a few widows that either didn’t respond to my request, or some that said no. For instance, Dana Petty, widow of Tom Petty, has been very supportive of the project, but felt that it was too soon after Tom’s passing to be interviewed. I sent a letter to Donna Allman, widow of Duane Allman, and she wrote a beautiful note back to me saying that she was “18 when I met Duane, 19 when we married, 20 when we had a child, 21 when he kicked me out of the house, and 22 when I became responsible for burying him.” She went on to say that she couldn’t possibly revisit that trauma by providing an interview. I, of course, respect that decision. It was an early lesson that I was really asking a lot of many of these women who had very traumatic experiences when they were very young. None of the women I asked were dismissive or rude. If they felt they couldn’t participate, they explained that.

My first publisher was BMG Books, a division of the large music publishing company. They were instrumental in connecting me to several of the widows that are profiled in the book, including Catherine Mayer, Ingrid Croce, and Nancy Jones.

TLR: Widows of celebrities are often faced with navigating the public while grieving. How did the response of grieving fans affect the women you interviewed?

Lori: It’s really a double-edged sword for them. They all appreciate the support they receive from fans, and the support the fans had always given their husbands/partners. So, they really do try to honor that. But many fans go too far. Ronnie Van Zant’s widow, Judy, had to relocate his grave after someone broke into the mausoleum where he was interred. Nancy Jones discussed that she has gone to the cemetery to be with George and has found that fans have been cremated and had their ashes spread on George’s grave, which seems a terrible violation. Quite often fans judge everything the widows do, especially around music legacies. The wildest story is from Gloria Jones, widow of Marc Bolan of T. Rex. Gloria and Marc were in a car accident, in which Gloria was driving. She still receives judgement from fans who feel she is responsible (despite an inquiry that said otherwise). While she was hospitalized, their home was vandalized and looted of nearly everything, including bedsheets and silverware.

TLR: In addition to having to navigate the reaction of overzealous grieving fans, oftentimes people who grieve are given the implicit or explicit message to “hurry up and get over it.” Of course, grief does not ever go away completely. So, we’re wondering if through your support groups and writing this book, you learned anything about grief that surprised you?

Lori: I’m not sure that I learned anything that surprised me about grief directly, but I did come to understand how grief weaves itself into your life and just becomes part of who you are. For these widows, moving on is made more difficult because there are business dealings and publishing rights that go on forever. They often have difficult interactions with band members who wish to continue touring and making music, and sometimes there is animosity there. And of course, there’s the music. They have all had experiences with hearing their late husband’s music while they’re otherwise going about their day, and it is an emotional experience. I don’t have those things, but I still think of my late husband frequently, like when our children ask my advice, or when we have family milestones that he’s missing. I am who I am because of who I became as his wife, and who I became as his widow, and who I’ve become as a solo person navigating midlife in the wake of all these things. We can get on with life, but it is on different terms after going through significant loss.

TLR: Do you have any advice for people who are interested in writing and publishing their own difficult stories? For instance, it seems it would be incredibly difficult to relive those moments when your husband got his diagnosis.

Lori: It is difficult, but it has also been helpful for me to write about and relive the time of Kevin’s illness and death. I remember those days very clearly (I sometimes think that’s the curse of those of us who love to write). I spent some time during COVID when I wasn’t able to travel to complete interviews for my book, writing about how our marriage was bookended by three years of home renovation at the beginning and three years of cancer at the end. The commonalities of those experiences and how we managed both was interesting and I wanted to explore that. I was surprised at the detail I could remember. With the isolation of COVID, it probably wasn’t the best time to focus on it. I remember at one point feeling as though Kevin was in the other room, waiting to read what I was writing. I knew then that I had to take a break.

My advice for others would be to pace yourself and not give yourself unreasonable deadlines for accomplishing significant writing. Also, to have support as you are writing and focusing on difficult times. I’m fortunate to have had great writing groups that not only suggested writing improvements but allowed a place for me to talk about how hard it sometimes was. (I had a good therapist, too!) Lastly, I would say to be open to whatever your purpose might be in writing. Is it to get the story out, or is it to help you process? It may be both and it may change over time. There are often many emotions that come into play while writing about those we’ve lost—relationships are seldom always happy and straightforward. Just be sure to give yourself grace in how much you’re able to do and where the writing takes you. You may not be able to arrive at a happy ending and that’s really okay.