For this, my last post in honor of Whimsy‘s experiment in joy extraction, I’m doing something a little different. Instead of detailing something that’s obviously worthy of joy, I’m trying to dig really deep, pull the joy out by a nub.
How do I say this without saying what I’ve already said, a million times over? A million times hasn’t been enough, and this time won’t be different. A million times feels like zero times.
I dread June 3rd more than any other day of the year.
When I found out my dad died, I was watching Diff’rent Strokes. How stupid is that?
And then I forced myself to eat a chicken taco from Taco Bell.
These are the stupid kinds of things I remember.
The experience was as bad as you’d imagine, if you could imagine it. Which is impossible, unless you’ve had a young (not old) parent (not grandparent, pet, friend) die when you were a child (not adult) suddenly (not as a result of long-term illness), specifically of his/her own volition (not accidentally).
This is not to minimize the pain of losing a sick, elderly pet (or even parent) when you’re an adult. But come on.
It’s a very specific category of pain, this, one that pervades everything – every. thing. – that you do, every day, for the rest of your life. It colors your understandings of your world and yourself and your place in the world.
I’m not being overly dramatic. I wish.
But here are the glimmers of joy.
There are years when this day drags everything that has ever been in my soul out into the light of day. Those years are dark and inward; I don’t even want to think about them. This is not one of those years. And I’m getting to the point of being okay with that, of not feeling guilty that June 3rd is not always the life-sucking trauma it once was.
This date represents an event that happened 23 years ago that then informed every moment I’ve lived, every decision I’ve made, everything I’ve become since. If I think about all these moments, decisions, people I’ve become… in general, I think, Not Too Shabby. I have children – four of them – because of this event in my life. I have a Ph.D. because of this event in my life. I’m married to a wonderful person (HEAR THAT, SUCKA?) because of this event in my life. The mechanisms for these things are complex – and generally related to fear – but they’re more direct than you’d think.
I almost want to end this post right here. This is the extent of my ability to process this today. Right here. Word count: 450-something.
But that wouldn’t be a nice package, unraveling everything and leaving the words all ragged.
So, I will say this. For me – because this is the only life I know – it’s true that pain and joy coexist, that they’re inextricably linked. To experience joy is to know depth of pain. To feel pain is to see possibilities for joy. There is something so basic and intimate about pain, even more than joy. How can you grok the full range of human experience and emotion without really engaging – fully embracing, containing – sadness?
I wouldn’t change a thing.
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
There is absolutely nothing I can say today, but just wanted to tell you that this post is beautifully written.
And I just *now* realized that your dad’s death occurred just a few short months before we met.
It did, yes. He died 10 days after I turned 11 and just a few days after we got out of 5th grade for the summer.
This was perfect. Do you know that?
And brave. So brave.
There is a kahlil gibran piece from The Prophet on joy and sorrow, about just this thing, that they are interconnected, that we can never have one without the other. And this: the deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain.
I am so glad to know you.
I’m sorry you had to grow up with this- that you didn’t get to finish out your childhood before learning of pain and loss and sadness :(
I totally agree… that it makes the happiness that much happier & the petty things that much more insignificant.
I just wanted to say your post left me speechless. As the previous commenters have said, there is nothing we could say, or add to this. You were so open, honest and brave to share like this. And we are better for having shared this with you.