What do you do when time behaves like a rascal, defiant and disobedient? What day is it? What month? How long has Danny been dead?
Time always slips around some, but in acute grief it stretches and compresses like an unruly adversary — another aspect of loss.
Today is the four-month anniversary of Danny’s death. Ken and I find ourselves flummoxed. We seesaw from wondering how it can be only four months to wondering how it’s already been a quarter of a year.
I didn’t think this was a significant anniversary, but the amount of weeping I’ve done today tells a different story.
Last night, I tossed and turned and dreamt about Mick Jagger. Nonsense, really. I was in the kitchen and something frustrated me and I pushed some objects violently aside. Mick Jagger said, “You’ll never be president.”
Why would I want to be president and why is Mick Jagger in my kitchen, judging me?
We saw him in the stands of the England/Argentina game, of course.
I don’t know enough about soccer to have an opinion, but boy are people mad on Threads. Many think that Argentina was afforded every advantage in ways both obvious and unfair. I don’t know. I just know that when the games end, there will be a space that needs filling.
Hand-wringing returned. Yesterday I kept imagining calling 911 that final night. I hear myself whispering that they shouldn’t use their siren and that they should approach the apartment quietly. And then I imagine announcing to a furious Danny that I couldn’t let him throw his life away.
You don’t have to chime in about culpability or whether such an intervention would’ve worked, even for the short term.
I know. I know. I think I know?
Last week, I met with a friend whose child has made more than five attempts on their life. This mother, my friend, shared that both times they institutionalized her daughter, it made things worse.
There’s so much suffering in the world.
The rabbits eat at a furious clip this summer. It’s hard to watch my ferns drying up in the heat and the hosta being devoured by those cute little fuckers. More death.
Our corrupt dipshit of a president plans to address the nation tonight. I’ll admit to being on edge, even though sane commentators say, Calm down. The federal government doesn’t control elections. He can say whatever he wants and it doesn’t mean he has the power to do what he says.
There are many things that I wish I believed.
Meanwhile, the upside of this diarrhea lettuce outbreak is that we have twice recently shopped for local produce.
I got some gorgeous onions that the bagger said you could bite right into they’re so sweet. And look at these beauties below!
For dinner, we’re gonna have an onion, goat cheese, burrata, ham, and asparagus tart.
Yum. Can’t wait.
OMG I no sooner hit sent to Marti’s email when I came here .. again and again I am so sorry for what you and Ken are living through.
I’m not sorry for venting .. it felt kinda what I needed but really I’m reminded here that things always can be worse.
Going to the farmers market is an excellent idea .. thank you for that. Your dinner looks delicious.
Love and Hugs ..
anyone who is paying attention is grieving now. Grieving for our nation, grieving for the rule of law, grieving about the blatant corruption, and on and on and on.
4 months, it is not that long ago. I surely continue to ache from Danny’s violent end, and for you and your family, Dee. I will always have this “front of mind”. Danny was someone we never suspected of feeling he could not go on. Never! And I have heard this from others about other suicides – from spouses, friends, parents, siblings, that were blindsided. It is unbelievable but it is true.
That dream could be considered quite humorous in some other context. And, Mick Jagger? I was over the top stricken by Mick Jagger for decades. Now, I occasionally wonder if is he still alive? particularly after invading your dreams. And how is this president even still on TV? maybe he’s not really alive anymore.
I don’t know why I wrote what follows. I should be doing a lot of other things!! But, as I wrote it here, I leave it for what its worth, if anything.
Today I told a woman whom I barely know that I believe 2 of my sister’s lost their sanity because of how they were treated during the 1960’s. We were talking about government and corporate lies in years gone by. My sisters fought for civil rights and against the war and have both said they were punished and illegally put on anti-psychotic drugs as a method of being silenced. Was I brainwashed to think my sisters were lying about being punished for protesting? Now it seems a little incredible that they were not shot somewhere in cold blood. Was it because we had a free press back then and journalist’s writing and photos were true?
Anyway, after that conversation I found myself remembering while I driving home that I had once, in my twenties, thought about suicide. I told only one person. I think now that I was testing what response would come of admitting my thoughts out loud. The person I told (whom I thought was in love with me at the time) said, “no one will care if you do”. I don’t think I ever spoke to that person again. WTF makes people tick? And why didn’t I commit suicide after hearing that lack of caring? I guess I didn’t see suicide as a real solution. So, is the response I got from that person “on the books” for preventing suicides, and can we say that was the right thing for me to hear at that time?
I love to roast or grill spring onions – oh so delicious. We joined a CSA this year. Oh, the other day, driving home thru VT, we saw farm after farm after farm. BEAUTIFUL. Now, which farmers will vote and which farmers don’t care to?
Wow. So much here Maggie. Interesting (horrifying) speculation about your sisters. And who was that nasty piece of work who said no one would care? Good god!
We were not blindsided by Danny’s suicide. It wasn’t an absolute given but we lived in total fear that it could happen any minute and it did.
Gosh, how awful! What a thing to say to someone in need. 😕 Sorry you had to hear that.
Dee~ In a year or 5 or more, 4 months will feel like a blink of the eye. Yet, each day and moment that passes new, different or altered feelings may arise.
I keep bumping into grief stories and considerations in so many places, of so, so many kinds. I’m so sorry yours are so darn thick right now.
The dream had me honestly laughing out loud and those onions are stunning!
Such a slice of life over here.
xo
What you say is true. Sometimes Danny’s entire life feels like a blink of an eye. Once you start looking (or the algorithm does), there are stories about people everywhere who are undergoing loss. We continue to be shocked and saddened by how many parents have lost children to suicide.
4 months. I’ve become confused about time.
It happens. I imagine living alone might contribute.
Dates become magnets, as if pulling us in, announcing anniversaries, as if we didn’t already know them and we respond with heart-ache, floods of tears; tears that feel as if they have drained us.. You go ahead and spill them Dee, for our bodies need to empty out, and our tears acknowledge our sorrow . Yet as we grieve, we go on, turning to those rituals that sustain us, feeding ourselves, admiring the beauty of what is grown from the land, creating dishes that fill all of our senses, life continuing in the simple beauty of making a meal.
Does personal grief make us more attuned to collective world-wide grief? Does our grief fuel our anger at the fact that everywhere we turn, destruction, lack of respect for people and the land, is the theme of this regime. Today, I am spitting mad to learn that one of New Mexico’s and Arizona’s cultural treasures, Chaco Canyon, is threatened. The head of the Bureau of Land Management, Stevan Pearce, a former Republican congressman from New Mexico, who failed at running for Governor, is pushing forward a proposal to fast track opening Chaco Canyon to oil and gas drilling. He should be ashamed for even pushing this but he is disgruntled and drinks the kool-aid of this evil regime’s mantra, .”Drill, baby, drill,” . For the next two weeks, public meetings will be held and I hope the crowds will overwhelm this insanity but I don’t hold my breath.
“Chaco Canyon in New Mexico is a spectacular UNESCO World Heritage site. Between 850 and 1250 CE, this harsh desert served as the monumental ceremonial, trading, and administrative hub for Ancestral Puebloans. It remains incredibly special for its unrivaled ancient engineering, astronomical alignments, and modern cultural significance.
Monumental Architecture. For New Mexico’s 19 Pueblos, Hopi, Navajo and other tribes, Chaco remains alive. ”
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I think our personal grief does change how we hear news about wider events. For instance, the Nolan Wells tragedy. In the past, his death would have triggered outrage about racism and privilege and violence, but now I also sit in empathetic sorrow with the parents who have lost a son.
The degradation and outright destruction of national monuments and lands also hits hard, but I think it would have regardless of my circumstance. To see pictures of DC right now is to feel a visceral revulsion and also confusion about the powerlessness of anyone to stop him. Public lands? Endangered species? We cannot get this regime out of power soon enough.
How time both helps and hurts is a mystery. Four months is a sliver and too big all at once. K and I talk about Danny the other evening, ending in silence for the pain of it all.
And I would most certainly vote for you.
Because he lived and died in Colorado there is distance too.
we love and because we do we sometimes suffer
mostly joy though
and gratitude
Even though I never met your Danny, I have come to know him a little thanks to all you have shared here
He enters my thoughts while I’m gardening, sometimes joined by my dead mother, which is pretty weird, but also okay
It moves me to hear of friends offering their attention up to Dan. Thank you for that. To me it makes perfect sense that he would be with your mother. Also outside. In the garden.