2 Months Since Rowan
I can’t believe it. It feels like 2 YEARS, not months. Rowan tore such a deep rift in reality.
We have these “see-through” moments, lightning fast glimpses into this massive, isolating, “wtf matters!?” feeling.
Parker Palmer says, “depression is the ultimate state of disconnection.” That’s what it’s been like. Moments of disconnection from reality, from ourselves, from our friends, from each other, from our plans.
And then regular life… arranging for friends to come into town, figuring out dinner, running out of clean undies, trying to get to the gym.
And you can go for days or weeks without a see-through moment. And then it hits you, and you’re, like, “Fuck. Holy shit. Rowan. Mellisa.”
Depression is disconnection. This is that. But there’s also connection. Through the see-throughs we connect harder to those in the pits with us and to what feels like the feebleness of everything, how slim our chances are, how small our concerns are, how lucky we are, how fucked up and wonderful everything can be.
How are we? I think we’re grieving well. Seems like we feel it and don’t feel it in the right ratio. We certainly could be doing worse. Who can tell?
I’m so proud of my wife. My biggest fear, the thought motivating so many of my decisions in the hospital, was the fear that this will split her right down the middle and turn her into full on batshit crazy pants. It didn’t. There’ is’s a crack. But as Leonard Cohen says, that’s how the light gets in.
What now? We’re working on some big life decisions. These include things like, “when do you want to get preggers again?” and “what will Mellisa ‘do’ for a living?” My wife is literally the most talented person I know, which makes these questions harder, not easier. But these questions, and our life together, feels good. It feels right. We didn’t allow ourselves to think of any of this stuff for the first month. It’s been percolating. We’ve got lots of things to talk through.
I’m working on my business. I love my partner and what we’re building there. It’s creating the undergirding direction of my life, my mission, and it feels like me to me.
So, two months. Goddam. Thank you for your support. For the cards, the flowers, the gins, the conversations, the awkwardness, the tears, the giggles and snuggles and music and story retellings and dinners. There are dried flowers hanging on the walls in our house. Specialty Gin has fueled many late night talks. Tears and conversation have helped us get perspective and feel less alone.
We love you.