An Unavoidable Conclusion

A couple of realizations hit me today. The first came while I was out on a walk with our dog, Q, pictured below with Rox and Jackson at the famed Alice's Restaurant in Woodside in the fall of 2003. I realized that the emotional roller coaster I've been on of late has a theme that should have been obvious--namely, that about 90% of my "moments" happen in the house, and most of those while Jackson's at school.

Being alone here during the day definitely takes its emotional toll, but I can't seem to address that. I work at home (have for more than 11 years now), and even though I have my laptop
now, I typically do something physical mid-day (swim, play hoops), so the most likely time to go hang out at a local coffee house is between about 9 and 11:30. Somehow, I always decide it doesn't seem worth it, and there's always stuff I need to get done around the house. What I am abundantly clear on now is that every month that stay here will pull me down a little bit further. So regardless of my decision about moving us, I definitely need to at least get us into a rental sooner rather than later.

The second realization came while I was in the shower. (What is it about the shower that brings out grief and anger and all the most intense feelings related to a loss?) It suddenly hit me like a load of bricks that since I was in Florida when Rox did the deed, she had somehow decided to leave Jackson at a moment when she was the only parent within thousands of miles. If something had happened to me on the chaotic trip home--a car accident, plane crash, whatever--Jackson would have been parentless. Suddenly, feelings of anger toward Rox rushed to the surface, and I began pounding my fist on the shower wall.

Once that rage died down, I started feeling intense disappointment that Rox gave credence to my mom's longtime sense that she was essentially a narcissistic person. I always argued that she was not, and I still believe that to be the case, but suicide leaves an inherently narcissistic wake. This afternoon, I was on the web site for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, and they had a promotional poster that has the slogan, "Every 16 minutes, someone in the U.S. dies by suicide. Every 17 minutes, someone is left to make sense of it." What could be more selfish than to leave your loved ones to an eternity of grappling with a surreal, self-inflicted death?

To be fair, I don't think Rox or any of us could ever have understood the eventual aftermath of her actions. Rox couldn't see beyond her pain. I couldn't see beyond what I thought was a dramatic attempt to get me back. Unfortunately, all of us who are left can see the impact clearly now, but the one person who could have done something with that knowledge isn't around anymore.

All of this brings me to the simplest, most obvious truth I need to be embracing, even if it's also the most difficult task I've ever faced: It's time to truly let go.