Learning to Talk About Death

Kobe Bryant's death has been an incomprehensible tragedy.  I am deeply sorry for his wife and children who have been left behind and will have to forge a new way of living as a family.  He was larger than life and I can't imagine what it is like to take that first step into life after Kobe.  But Kobe was not perfect.  He was accused of rape and it has left an ugly shadow on the legacy that many do not care to remember.  Kobe was not perfect.  No one is perfect.  We all have our shadows. 

In our pain, we want so badly to remember our loved ones as whole, complete, and perfect.  Somehow we have to learn how to incorporate the whole person into our memory of them after they pass.  I have recently said my final good-bye to my ex-husband, my lifelong friend.  There have been and continue to be some tricky moments for me, both public and private where the shadows have appeared.  There were some very real reasons why we divorced after 23 years of marriage.  In my grief, they are often the reality check for me and the reminder that how America mourns is sorely lacking.  He wasn't perfect.  We weren't perfect.  Yet I remember him as my great love.  But I also remember the pain.

I mourned his passing with my family and friends with out hesitation.  It broke me completely to know that he and I would never enjoy one another's company again.  Day after day, I had to tell myself that he was gone.  No more talks, no more dinners, no more laughs together.  But as you continue the journey of reliving that live that is no more, the shadows slowly appear.  The photos bring it all back into focus.  In a picture is everything; the people, the place, how you got there.  You remember it all; the fight you had just before the photo was snapped, the smile that you pasted on your face trying desperately to cover the pain for the benefit of others, or the emptiness when he didn't even show up.  But mourning in America has no place for that, even if you're the ex-wife.  There is no opportunity to say that he wasn't perfect, that I had wanted more.  I wanted to grow old together even if that was only to 2019.  I wanted him to still be here, I wanted to still have our family home filled with kids and grandkids in the backyard and gathered around the table.  No, he wasn't perfect, we weren't perfect.  And now I want us, as a society, to get better at this grieving thing.  I want so badly to be remembered whole.  I want my kids to tell the stupid stories of my life.  Do not sugar coat me .  Keep me human with all my frailties and weaknesses.  Remember me as I am.  Don't leave any of it out.  I have light and I have shadows.  We all do.

Writing!

I am writing.  I haven't done much writing here but I am writing.  Following Ralph's passing I was overcome with the need to be certain that he and his stories live on in the hearts and minds of his grandchildren.  I know in my own life I have had to rehear the stories of my grandparents who passed on during my childhood.  I would prefer that Ralph's stories come to life now rather than 50 years from now when the little ones start asking about him and the things he cared about.  I got started on this project with a general idea in mind of just jotting down a few memories that defined Ralph as a person but then discovered a book to help me through the process; Life's Workbook; How to Write Your Autobiography Through Memoir Writing.  It has been the perfect fit for this project.  The first step was to complete a life chronological calendar.  It is quite a thing to see your entire life in a notebook - where you have lived, the big events, vacations, how your work and educational life supported each other.   It is the perfect starting point Not having many social contacts in town has also helped me immensely as I dive into this full force.  I try to write almost every day like everyone says you should.  I write the draft and then go back to it later to beef it up or smooth out the rough edges.  The writing stays with me.  I think about it before I write, during the process and afterward - what I left out, how to be sure that his being comes through the words in the love and humor that he exuded.  It is an awesome responsibility; to create this person who you loved with only words and to know that he will live on because of this work. 

Things that keep coming up for me:

• I tend to feel emotionally stuck in the event or time period that I'm writing about.  That can be a joyful thing or painful depending on the topic and how much I decide to include for my audience.  Writing about the baby years was definitely exhausting and I had to push myself to get through it quickly.  I smelled those diapers and felt the sleepless nights in my entire body.  The brain is a fascinating thing!
• Save your letters; hearing the voice of your younger self is exactly the voice you want to come through in your memoirs.  I'm not a saver but I was never able to throw away my parents or Ralph's letters from my college years.  My parents also gave me a couple letters that I had written to them during the same time frame.  Those were fascinating!  I told them a lot more than I thought I would have.  
• Reliving the life of our marital relationship through this writing is cathartic.  While it does not help the grieving process at all it does confirm that we were happy together for many many years.  It is the reminder that my grieving is real; I lost a good friend and someone who knew me better than anyone else in the world.  I miss him.
• While my intention was to write Ralph's story, I can already see how this is going to spread into another story; mine.  

And so I am writing.  I am a writer.  It has always been a thing to which I have aspired.  And it's happening.   It was always there waiting to come out; I only needed a purpose, an opportunity and and audience.