#94 / Some Very Difficult News
I used to really enjoy sarcasm.
I still do, but I used to, too. (Hat tip to Mitch Hedberg.)
The title of this email is, unfortunately, not sarcastic.
Not that I would ever pretend to have really bad news, if I had none.
I'm just trying to provide a little buffer here, via this belabored intro, in case you were previously reading about puppies and/or sunshine.
OK, that's probably enough.
Some of you know that I recently experienced a very sudden, unexpected and devastating loss.
My wife Ashley died by suicide this past November.
I have consistently struggled to describe how I am doing. A lens of "wellness"/"unwellness" feels inaccurate and reductive. Maybe it always was. I don't really have the desire or the time to be specific, most of the time. So I guess what I'll say for now is that I am doing well enough to write this letter, and to want to get back to writing these emails regularly. I miss y'all, and I need you.
It's hard to identify good days as "good." And it's hard to identify feelings of joy as "joyous." But there have been some of both.
But mostly it sucks. I'm quite tired of how much it sucks, but it's going to go on sucking for a while.
I might want to write mostly about lighter things here for a while, so don't be surprised if that happens. But also maybe not. I've been pretty open in talking about my grief in person, because it helps everyone—most of all me. I certainly have plenty more to say. (And I know that I am leaving a lot of questions unanswered in this particular email. But who has all the answers?)
Maybe if I've got something really heavy to discuss, I'll put it somewhere else and link off to it? I'm not sure; please reply to this and let me know if you have any thoughts about what you would prefer.
I've been trying to go out into nature more. That makes for good photo essays, and photo essays are fun to write and easy to read. They may also make for some strange juxtapositions, framed against confrontations with grief and love and existence.
I guess I haven't said this before in this space, but thank you so much for giving me room to be whoever I am, and whoever I need to be. It's not something I've always felt like I've had in my life (even though I have always had it), but it's tangible and conscious now. And thanks in advance for letting me be even weirder and more direct and more difficult. Because that might be what happens. Let’s find out together, eh?
The Chicago Marathon
Matt is one of Ashley's greatest and most steadfast friends; he's known her way longer than I have. She was planning to run the Chicago Marathon this year, on October 13, which would have been her first marathon. But since she can't, Matt will be running it in her honor and memory.
Matt is also racing to support the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (ASFP). He writes beautifully about this, and about Ashley—he's also included some lovely photos—on his fundraising page, where you can make a donation to AFSP. Please help us if you can; this organization is doing good work to reduce the stigma attached to suicide.
Writing
I thought you'd want to know that I have been doing some writing. I don't want to say any more about it, but it's happening, and it helps.
I also did a eulogy. It's the first and least gift I could give, to Ashley and to her spirit which remains with and within us. It won't be the last. I just want to try to communicate, somehow, some way, what she means to me, and how amazing and awesome she is, in the original sense of both of those words.
November 5, 2023
Some Other Stuff That Has Helped A Little
The book It's OK That You're Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand, by Megan Devine
This book is written explicitly for people experiencing what Devine calls "out of order" loss, and for the people who want to support those people. I started reading it about two or three weeks after Ashley died, and it was incredibly helpful: it validated my approach to and experience of grief up to that point, and it gave me some more tools. I couldn't fully relate to Devine's lengthy descriptions of all the ways that people get it wrong when attempting to support the bereaved, because my experience hasn't been like that; I realized how lucky I am to have so many thoughtful, intuitive, insightful family members and friends. The link above goes to Devine's website, which also includes a bunch of other resources.
Petrusich recorded this a year after losing her husband; she kept sharing details about her experience that made me say, "But I thought that was just me."
Researcher Lucy Hone on the Hidden Brain podcast episode entitled "Life After Loss"
Hone discusses currently-theorized models of grief, and she's very open about her own story of loss. One of the papers mentioned in the episode notes, "Cautioning Health Care Professionals: Bereaved Persons Are Misguided Through the Stages of Grief", is actually the first thing I found and read on the day that Ashley died. (Because of course that's what I would do.) I found it comforting just to know that so many really smart people are thinking hard about grief—even though the science isn't super advanced—and I was fortunate to immediately encounter something that challenged the idea of stages of grief. (Kübler-Ross never intended to apply the stages prescriptively, and her original observations came from people with terminal illnesses, not the bereaved.)
The book Say Her Name, by Francisco Goldman
Goldman writes about losing his wife, the writer Aura Estrada, in a terrible accident, and receiving the blame for it from her family. It fascinates me in many ways, including that it's billed as a novel, but also it’s so clearly derived from his real-life experiences. Goldman's writing and storytelling is poignant, detailed and cathartic. It's also a challenging and heartbreaking read that I've been working through for months now. But I see myself so vividly in this story. It's a gift.
My tunes
Music is probably the most helpful thing. With a lot of what I've been listening to—the stuff that resonates the most—the meaning is highly personal; I’m very willing to discuss it, but I would probably need an additional email per song. Maybe I’ll do that. For now, I’m just interested in sharing these so that you can know/hear/feel what's been helping me get by.
Julie Byrne — "Summer Glass"
The War on Drugs — "I Don't Live Here Anymore"
Liz Lawrence — “Life Again”
Gillian Welch — “Wayside/Back in Time”