Pull Them Close/What Can We Say and Do?

Friday...comotose. A malaise has descended over me. Yesterday my time was spent drinking coffee and staring out the window or sleeping. Missed an important conference call. Stared at the Christmas tree that was put up two weeks ago and still is unadorned. My house is spotless but there is not one hint that it's Christmas in a few days. Reached out repeatedly to Madeleine - felt the need to pull her close - she was elusive but finally came over at about 9PM. It was too late to salvage something of the day so I simply sat and stared at her and listened to her babble about meaningless stuff, bouncing like a kangaroo from one topic to the next. All the time, asking myself.....what's the next move. How do I keep this kid safe? ...but came up empty.

On Wednesday when I escaped to Maggiano's for singing and drink and merriment to stem the pain I was feeling over Chris' death, I sat at a long communal table and found myself in the middle of an office get-together - young sweet things - all variations on a Barbie. They wore the same uniform - short bouncy skirts, black tights, impossibly high stiletto heels, tight little tops - some wore a short jacket over, and all, without exception (and there were a dozen of them) had long straightened hair parted in the middle or slightly to the side. It was surreal (and frankly annoying because their conversation was inane). There was one guy - he was giddy with excitement and, with the arrival of each new Barbie, he announced, "I'm going to be a Daddy in July!" It made me so sad to know what he has yet to figure out - children can break your heart. I thought of a day about twenty-four years ago when my friend Steve announced with similar giddiness, "We're expecting a baby!" And what wonderful parents he and his wife, Sarah are (weird right, the names?..my husband a Steve too and he married a Sarah). The child was loved and adored and doted upon - spent his youth living an equestrian life (his mother owned a horse farm and taught and showed hunter/jumpers). His parents are fine people and excellent parents who devote themselves to the wellness of their family and community. It's just not fair.

This morning, watched an episode of Glee on my IPad (told you I'm not doing well - it is extremely rare for me to watch any sort of TV, never mind in the morning when I should be rolling my sleeves up and taking on the day). One speech that brought tears was the wedding toast at Finn and Curt's parents' wedding. Curt's father talked about his first wife's death and how very sad life can be when someone you love dies. You, the one left living, continue on - one foot in front of the other, but it's not a life worth living. I haven't spoken to my friends yet about the loss of their child - I've been thinking of what I could say that would make a difference to them, that might give a measure of comfort. I absolutely HATE that platitude, "I'm sorry for your loss." It is, to my mind, a disgusting meaningless thing to say. No different than "Best Wishes" when you hear someone's engaged, or "Have a happy holiday." What are we? - Chatty Cathy dolls with a string on the backs of our necks? - having these stock phrases that we recite as required?

What I will say is this: There will come a time when everyone will look to you to be better - to have put this tragedy behind you - to move on and be OK.  People will give you a year or two to heal and then they will be impatient with your pain. You will see it in their eyes, hear it in the advice they give - that they are done listening. They will think they are doing you a favor to keep things light, discouraging any conversation about your son - they will have moved beyond the pain of his loss and they will want the same for you - want the old you back. You will learn to fake it with those people - knowing they're done - that further dialogue about  the death and loss is unwanted. I will not be one of those people. I do not expect you to move on from this - there will be a new you that I will embrace - a "you" that will be forever colored by your loss. When we see each other, I want to hear how you're doing. I will listen to you talk of him, no matter how repetitive it gets.  I will never expect you to be done with the subject of him. I will be the person who helps to keep him alive in your heart by talking about him and listening for as long as it takes.

Made me think about my friend Muriel - an older woman who sings at Schaller's. Think I wrote about her once. I was a stranger to her and yet she sensed I was a person who would listen and not judge. In our very first conversation she mentioned in an off-hand way that she had son who died. She didn't elaborate. I asked her to tell me the story. What I heard was horrific - an account of her beautiful twenty-year old fireman son who accompanied a newly promoted friend to a bar to celebrate. An off duty bouncer with a hair across his ass picked a fight with the friend and Muriel's son intervened. His carotid artery was cut through with a broken ashtray. I asked Muriel if it ever gets better - if there is a day when he's not the first thing she thinks of and the last before she falls asleep. She told me, with tears in her eyes, that even, thirty years later, the pain is unbearable. Only in the last few years has she ventured out with friends, found the will to sing, to live a little. I kissed her and said, "from one mother to another, I think I understand." Now when I see her we share a special knowing smile and hug. We don't have to say much....she knows, I know she is still in pain.

Yesterday, after writing the blog, true to my word, I Googled around (put in the search field 'gun control PACs'). I was directed to a super PAC run by the mayor of NY, Michael Bloomberg. Was a little suspicious of donating to that one because I don't know what his other agendas are. Then I found the Sarah Brady site that's been around for a very long time since her husband was shot during the assassination attempt on Reagan. Seems that contributions to anti-gun lobbies are really down in recent years - their ability to lobby the government is greatly diminished for a couple of reasons: the strength of the N.R.A, the economy, the perception that, because a Democrat is in the White House, things will naturally be more balanced, etc. I signed up for a monthly donation of $50. Ironically, later in the day, friend John suggested the same Brady site! I also plan to offer my time in some capacity - Elizabeth suggested I get grass roots about it and find out what's needed in my  home town, Evanston.

Your challenge today could be putting your money where your mouth is. $50/month is eminently doable for most of us. It's the cost of one night out. Here's the site. Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence.

Peace,
Sarah

Picture is my Madeleine