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Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.
-Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking
This week a very public loss has affected many in my community, but none so much as our own family. It has been nothing short of devastating for the people I love most in this world.
The grief is compounded by all the publicity and talk that the death of a public figure engenders; especially one so many people felt like they knew.
(I understand why celebrities always put out statements like “please respect the family’s privacy during this difficult time.” They don’t expect anyone to really listen, but it’s worth giving it a shot, I suppose.)
After a tragedy like this, I know it’s human nature to want more information; people crave the details that can connect us to each other, give us a more important role in the conversation, help us process our grief or shock or disbelief, to find a scapegoat, to absolve us of feelings of guilt or helplessness. Or maybe we are simply humans, wired to seek community through the stories of shared loss.
I have struggled for the last few days with what to say. Everything feels wrong. Maybe this is wrong too, I don’t know. I’m pretty blurry myself.
What I have landed on, so far, is that I have a much longer list of what I don’t want to say.
So I’m not writing today to reveal untold stories or correct facts or bring to light some new revelation. I hope you’re not here for that reason, and if you are, I am sorry to disappoint.
I simply want to extend immense gratitude to those who have reached out with genuine kindness and compassion.
I want to say thank you for caring about kids you’ve never even met.
And I want to wish peace and healing to those who are hurting.
So many people have generously asked what they can do. I suppose my response right now is: Be kind. Extend grace. Think before you write something publicly that may pour salt on open wounds. Try to make peace with the fact that you—well no one, really—will ever know anyone else’s entire story. Forgive yourself and others for being imperfect. Tell the people you care about how you feel about them every single day. Don’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control. Do something good in the name of someone you love.
The world is a harsh place. Let’s keep directing positive energy, uplifting thoughts, prayers, white light, strength and unwavering love out into the universe to those who need it most.
Beautifully said, Liz. I have been thinking of your family nonstop this week, and thinking of that has made me think about an era in my life that has been over for a while now. I suspect so much of what the community is processing is tied up in their own personal experiences -- things we feel about what we wrote, or what we didn't. What we knew about any of us, what we thought we knew, what it means to be someone who writes about themselves and their family on the Internet. I know I am so much more private than I was then. We existed in that space at a unique time in history, and history will learn from all of our mistakes as well as our triumphs. xo xo
Perfect, you found the words so well when you’re going through so much. I think a large part of the world is holding you all in its arms, especially those kids we feel like we grew up with. I’m glad you all sense that. You’re all so loved.
Among the sadness today, what popped into my head but “SHINGLES!’ Heather in that sequined dress on the roof repeating the word in various ways, speaking in ALL CAPS with the exclamation point and jazz hands in long gloves. That memory brought a smile to my face and now I’ve been saying SHINGLES! to myself all day. ❤️ A light in the dark.