I was saddened a couple weeks ago by the death of Brad Delp, the lead singer of the classic-rock band Boston, but I’m positively heartbroken to learn this morning that he in fact committed suicide. He sealed himself in his bathroom with a pair of charcoal grills and died of carbon monoxide poisoning. A note attached to his shirt said he was “a lonely soul” and had lost his will to live, a curious sentiment considering he was engaged to be married, but then no one ever said that clinical depression was a logical condition.

In a gesture I find deeply touching and even heroic in an small, quiet, odd kind of way, Brad left another note on the bathroom door warning whoever came to find him that there was CO inside. What a damn shame that a man who felt this much compassion for others apparently couldn’t find enough for himself.

Oh, and just to add another layer of sorrow to this already sad story, it looks like Brad’s old bandmates, friends, and family members are squabbling in the aftermath of his death. The bones of contention are complicated and old — the basic grudge dates back to legal battles in the early ’80s — but the practical result is that several people who cared about Brad, including Tom Scholz, Boston’s founder and Brad’s friend for 35 years, were not invited to his funeral.

I know from my own bitter experiences that deaths seem to exacerbate and cement these kinds of ancient hurts, rather than healing them as Hallmark movies would have us believe. Still, I think it’s unspeakably crappy that Scholz, in particular, felt excluded. The article I linked suggests that he hopes to smooth things over so the current Boston line-up can attend a public memorial; I hope he succeeds…