Letter 9
November 11, 2014
Dear Jesse,
Today I am sad - really fucking sad.
You always told me to keep it real, to not make everything look so perfect, especially through social media. You’d say that’s not real life.
You are right. It’s not.
I have a list of things to do today while Dylan is at preschool. I have to go to the grocery store so my family has food to eat, pick up dry cleaning, clean up the house and work on my business.
I can’t right now.
What I need to do is this. I need to somehow get out the darkness that is quickly filling up my being.
I need to write you this letter.
I’m having a hard time seeing through this momentary fog of deep sadness. No one puts emphasis on the fact that you can have so many things going for you here in the physical world, but at the end of the day, it means nothing. People were so shocked by Robin Williams death. I heard so many people say, “He was brilliant, my god he had so many things going for him, he was Robin Williams for gods sake.”
None of that matters in the end.
When are human beings going to get it?
He was suffering on the inside. You were suffering on the inside. So many people are suffering on the inside. Right now, I am suffering on the inside.
I am not feeling my strongest today.
Instead of feeling guilty about how I feel, I need to say these things because it is where I am today in my sorrow. I need to remember to give a voice to all parts of this journey. I need to put words to the feelings of the particular valley I’m in.
I felt relief to drop my son off at preschool this morning. I finally could stop fake smiling and trying to be a happy mom acting like I’m fine. For a few hours I can stop worrying about if I’m doing something that is going to screw him up because I’m terribly sad. I’m relieved that my husband is working away from the house so that I can let my sadness fully envelop me and not worry that it’s going to concern him. I look forward to walking with Ollie, my dog, because he is just there with me. He not only walks the neighborhood with me, but he walks this journey with me too. I’m glad that I don’t have anyone to answer to for these few hours. No questions about bills, schedules or anything else for that matter. From the outside one could say that I too have so many things going for me. A budding business, a husband, and a beautiful son. That’s true, these things are wonderful and a gift, but today, right now, it is not enough to balance out this pain.
Nothing is.
Too often people are quick to tell someone in pain about all the things they have going for them. What they should be grateful for. I understand the logic. I understand that a balanced perspective is optimal. But I also think that that could be doing someone a disservice in their grieving. I believe the only way through something is just that- through it. Others may have an opinion about how long a grieving stage should be, or what it should look like, but I think it’s all bullshit.
I haven’t thrown the towel in.
I still get up every morning. I still do the laundry. I still take my son to school. I still feed him. I still bathe him. I still love him. I still kiss my husband hello and goodnight. I still have date nights so we can have alone time. I still make my coffee every morning. I still run to the bank. I still work at my business every day. I still walk the dog. I still try and plan for the future.
I still do all the things I did before I lost you.
It’s just incredibly harder right now.