Well, dear readers, your Virtual Memoirist has a confession to make: I’ve been in denial about how badly my pal Sang’s death has affected me and I belatedly realized that I am in the midst of depression. I’ve been chalking up my symptoms to some other cause, as if there’s some clearer reason that I’ve been emotionally flat, unable to craft a sentence, sullen, and physically cold for the past two weeks. The world itself has felt like it’s at arm’s length. If it weren’t for Amy’s love, I think I’d have drifted away.
I don’t know when I’m going to write another post. I’m trying to get myself writing, but everything I’ve tried has come out lifeless. It’s all just a collection of mundane events, with no magic, no song. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll just feel right again. Maybe I unburdened myself a little when I cried to my wife this evening. Maybe I need to cry more. I really can’t tell. I’m 39 years old and barely know myself sometimes. I honestly didn’t attribute all this to the most obvious cause there is. I feel like I’m in a mist.
I took Tuesday off and went to the city to visit the Morgan Library and Museum and have lunch with a pal. I added some more stops after that, and managed to turn everything into a race; I had to get back to the car by a certain time, to try to miss the traffic and get home in time to take care of the dogs. In my heart, I knew that I’d created that compressed timetable deliberately, because I wanted to worry about the immediacy of something, to be in a race. I was creating anxiety because I didn’t want to address the angst that’s been lurking since Sang’s death.
I got almost nothing out of the Morgan; it was a limited exhibition space, but I still flattened out the experience almost to nil. My only moment of joy was when I discovered that JP’s old library contained a 1595 edition of Montaigne’s Essais.
Lunch with my friend was better, because he’s known me so long, but I fear that I was somehow absent in that conversation; rather, the part of me that’s beset by grief was absent. And without that, what’s left?
So you may be getting a reprieve from this heap of broken images while I try to feel what I’m feeling.
Gil…you have taken the first step to healing…you’ve confronted what is causing the symptoms and emotions you have been feeling. There is absolutely nothing wrong with mourning the loss of someone you cared for and loved. What a tribute to Sang that he had a friend that felt so deeply about him.
At each step as you confront and question why you feel a certain way you will heal…you will. It may not feel like that now. Ask yourself why you feel this way. Was it the suddeness of it? Was it that you hadn’t spoken to him as recently as you would have wanted? Do you feel that you should have seen his illness somehow, could have prevented the outcome? You said in previous posts that Sang was a private man, so realize that you could only have helped if he wanted you to. Honor him with healing, honor him with having memories of moments shared.
It may or may not sound odd but I would suggest you go have an accupressure massage. I think it may help to release the feelings and emotions that your holding in.
Remember that Amy, your family and friends love and care about.. you. We are all here..for you.
Hugs and love,
Chris
Gil,
It takes a lot of courage to express your feelings with us – I admire you for it. Hopefully, this expression provides you with some peace. Our thoughts are with you.
Your friends,
Sam and Tracie
Gil,
You are not alone – which is not to say that there are loved ones who will walk you though the darkness, though that seems to be true, but that you describe is a lasting experience of the many. Would that there was an alternative universe Facebook, you, I, we might casually witness the tears of our denizens, and post a little thumb’s up in support, and in turn be less able to so easily entertain the possibility that we can no longer be touched, or heard, or even seen.
Gil,
Thank you for being so candid with all of us. I am sad that Sang has left us, and can only imagine how much you must miss him. Several months ago, I found out a former shipmate of mine had passed away. I still don’t know the cause, but that wouldn’t matter too much, because I just miss him. He was a good guy, and it’s sad for the world to lose them.
Best,
Ian
Know that you are absolutely surrounded by people who love you.
Gil, I have so much to say to you about this. Here and now, I’ll just say that I am so sorry for your loss, and that you are in my thoughts and my heart.