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Knowing You’re a Punk is the First Step in the Cure

I was an absolute punk this morning. I was incensed over tech problems, dropping F-bombs and punching the desk with my fist.

Mood music:

It’s a typical problem for someone with clinical OCD. You want to control everything, though you know it’s impossible.

In mid-rage, I learned a friend had just lost a sibling.

Rage turned to guilt.

I’m no special case. We all lose our patience from time to time and act like spoiled brats. More often than not, it’s over little things, like missing a favorite TV show or getting stuck in traffic. It’s much easier to blow up than to be stoic when things don’t go our way.

The news I received this morning in the middle of my tantrum just goes to show that someone else always has it worse. I know what it’s like to lose a sibling, and I truly feel for my friend and pray for his family. I needed a hard slap of perspective this morning, but I wish the lesson came from someplace else.

Appreciate what you have. Hug those around you, and don’t sweat the little things. If you fail at any of these, just try again.

I’ll work at following my own advice.

Perspective-is-everything

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My Brother Lives on in the Nephew He Never Met

Thirty-one years ago this week, my older brother Michael died at age 17. I felt the need to write something to mark the anniversary. But to be honest, I didn’t know what to say.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/hEXpmYNgdBM?list=PLLFxufQM_PMu0EJn7shfH34GFPkEBXE_f

Part of that is because I wrote the whole “how his death affected me” post three years ago in “Death of a Sibling.” I also delved into the lighter memories — the outrageous and hilarious shit he used to pull — in “Celebrating a Lost Sibling.”

Then yesterday, during my 45-minute drive to the office, I was chuckling over a crack my oldest son made at my expense a few days ago.

“You know, Dad,” he said, staring at the Superman S on the T-shirt I was wearing, “you look like Superman, 20 years after saving the Earth, with more gray hair and more than a few extra pounds.”

I have the same, serrated brand of snark.  I’ll scold him to teach him manners and respect, but I’m usually laughing inside. More often than not, I laugh aloud, which admittedly defeats the purpose of scolding him in the first place.

Screen Shot 2015-01-12 at 7.17.40 AM

Truth is, I also enjoy it because it reminds me of my brother.

It’s funny how life works. Sean is named for a best friend and surrogate brother who died some years ago. But he’s sounding and looking more like my real brother all the time.

Like Michael, Sean has a unibrow and the start of some whiskers above his upper lip. He’s tall and lanky, the way Michael was before he started weight lifting in his early teens. His hair grows wild, the way Michael’s did, though the latter tried to control it with frequent hair cuts. Sean prefers a shaggy head.

There are some distinct differences between Sean and the uncle he never met, however. Michael was studying to be a plumber at the time of his death. He enjoyed the art of putting pipes together in just the right formation, allowing water to flow. Sean prefers putting LEGOs and robotic machinery together.

Sean is a Boy Scout, a choice his uncle — and dad, for that matter — would never have made. Sean is also more cautious and refined than Michael was. Sean hates his braces but hasn’t pulled them off with a pair of pliers like his uncle did the same day his mouth metal was installed. Years later, my brother’s act of rebellion is the stuff of treasured family lore. But Sean knows better than to try such a thing.

Differences aside, the similarities are hard to miss.

That makes me happy.

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Aaron Swartz and How to Deal With Suicide

I read many articles this weekend about the suicide of Internet prodigy and activist Aaron Swartz. Most were about how we should view his legacy in the face of charges that he used MIT’s computers to gain illegal access to millions of scholarly papers kept by JSTOR, a subscription-only service for distributing scientific and literary journals.

Mood music:

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Some call Swartz a hero who stood up for Internet freedoms. Others point out that he broke the law and had to be punished.

All that is beside today’s main point: The 26-year-old, co-creator of RSS and Reddit, was a tortured soul, the victim of a horrible illness many still fail to comprehend. It’s an illness I suffer from, and it claimed the life of my best friend 16-plus years ago.

Swartz, a man I never met, was open about his depression. Like other sufferers — like me — he wanted people to understand that it was a true illness, as dangerous to the body and the brain as cancer is when left unchecked.

Now he’s another tragic statistic, and those left behind have to come to terms with the nature of his death.

In the years since my friend’s death, I developed a code of conduct that allowed me to stop wallowing over that evil day in November 1996:

  • Don’t blame yourself; it’s pointless. No matter how many times you replay events in your mind, the fact is that it’s not your fault. For one thing, it’s impossible to get into the head of someone who is contemplating suicide. Sure, there are signs, but since we all get the blues sometimes, it’s very easy to dismiss the signs as a normal bout of depression. When someone loudly contemplates suicide, it’s usually a cry for help. When they say nothing and even appear OK, it’s usually because they’ve made their decision and are in the quiet, planning stages.
  • Don’t blame others; it’s equally pointless. Take it from me: Nerves in your circle of family and friends are so raw right now that it won’t take much for relationships to break apart. A week after my friend’s death I wrote a column about it, revealing what, in hindsight, was too much detail. His family was furious and most of them haven’t talked to me since. They feel I was exploiting his death to advance my writing career and get attention. What I’ve learned, and this is tough to admit, is that you’re going to have to let it go when the finger pointing starts. It’s better not to engage the other side. Nobody is in their right mind at this point, so go easy on each other. Give people space to make their errors in judgment and learn from them.
  • Don’t demonize the dead. When a friend takes their life, one thing that can gnaw at survivors is the notion that if they believe in Heaven and Hell, they believe those who kill themselves are doomed to the latter. I’m a devout Catholic, so you can bet your ass this one has gone through my mind. What I’ve learned, though, is that depression is a clinical disease. A person suffering from depression who then kills themselves isn’t in control of their actions, and Catholics, at least, don’t believe God punishes them for that.

    Even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, you might feel angry at your loved one for intentionally leaving you just when they did. It comes to the same thing: that person was sick and couldn’t make good decisions. My practice today is to simply pray that those souls will be redeemed and that they will know peace. It’s really the best you can do.
  • Break the stigma. One of the friends Swartz left behind has already done something that honors him: She went on Facebook and directed people toward the American Association of Suicidology website, specifically the page on knowing the warning signs. That’s a great example of doing something to honor your friend’s memory instead of sitting around second-guessing yourself. The best thing to do now is to educate people on the disease so that sufferers can help themselves and friends and family can really be of service.
  • Get on with your life. Nobody will blame you for not being yourself for a while. You have, after all, just experienced one of the worst tragedies there is. But try not to let it paralyze you. Life must go on. You have to get on with your work and be there for those around you.

Life can be brutal. But it is a beautiful thing. Seize it.

Aaron Swartz

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To the Siblings in Sandy Hook

To the people of Newtown, Conn., particularly the surviving children of Sandy Hook Elementary School:

I have no idea what it’s like to lose a child, and I pray to God I never will. But I’ve lost a sibling and know how that feels. So I’m hoping, nearly 30 years after my brother’s death, that some of what I’m about to say will be of some comfort to you.

We all experience the death of relatives and friends. Usually, it’s our grandparents and great-grandparents. It hurts, but it’s the normal circle of life. There are younger people in our lives who suffer and succumb to disease. That hurts, too, but there’s at least some comfort in the fact that they’re no longer suffering.

The sudden, unexpected death of a sibling is something quite different, as you’ve unfortunately discovered. My brother had asthma, a serious condition but not one we typically consider fatal. And yet just one major attack took him from us. Our family had been through the pain of divorce and dysfunction, but we had survived it. Our lives imploded with my brother’s death.

The manner in which your brothers and sisters were taken from you must feel 1,000 times worse. Though I can’t imagine how that feels, I’m hoping I can make a few points based on my own experiences.

My advice to you:

  • Don’t be afraid to cry. When I was a kid I never cried in front of others unless it was family. I thought it would make me look weak and stupid. I was wrong. No one — and I mean no one — will hold your tears against you. In fact, people will be relieved that you’re able to let the tears out. When tears are suppressed, you feel worse. The longer you go without crying, the worse it gets. Let it all out.
  • Remember that for every evil event in this world, there are countless good people around to help you through it. They will make sure you’re not forced to linger in the cold darkness. Mister Rogers described it this way: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.” Those people won’t disappear when the TV news crews go away and the funerals are over. They will always be there, and you will never be alone. That’s why good always wins out over evil in the end. Good people never give up or give in.
  • Be patient with your parents and give them all your love and help. Burying a child is the absolute worst thing a parent must do. It’s the greatest fear of every parent. After my brother died, I rebelled hard against my parents, partly because I lost patience with them as their grief made them stumble. It’s one of my big regrets. Don’t let it happen in your house. Help your parents and be very patient with them, and they will be able to function again. They’ll always carry a sadness, but they’ll also learn to experience new joys. You can be a big part of that.
  • Take your greatest dreams for the future and make them come true. Your brother or sister won’t get to experience the big moments of adulthood. It hurts knowing that. But they will be watching you from Heaven. Make them proud. No dream or goal is too big for you. If you keep studying and don’t give up when the going gets tough, you’ll be able to do anything you set your sights on. If anyone tells you a certain career is too hard to get, don’t believe it. I’ve managed to make a long, satisfying career out of writing. I’m not rich, but I’m happy.
  • If you find yourself laughing and smiling, don’t feel guilty about it. A few months after my brother died I went to see a movie. It was a comedy and I laughed hard. Then I felt horrible for laughing because I thought you weren’t supposed to laugh ever again. But that’s not true. It’s not only OK to laugh, it is essential to your survival. Humor will help you through all the difficult times ahead. Embrace it.

You will feel better in time. You’ll experience more difficult moments in your life, but that’s OK. We all have to go through the difficult times to truly understand and appreciate the good times. It may not make sense to you now. But in time, it will.

May God Bless you, your family and friends.

— Bill
candle_light

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An Inconvenient Death

It happens whenever someone dies. After the initial shock passes, you start thinking about when the wake and funeral will take place, including whether it will get in the way of your work, family, or entertainment plans. We feel selfish and petty when we get this way, but it’s human nature.

[spotify:track:4zbJWmA6NqIPSyNsLddZnO]

Some of the youngsters in my life went through this as we prepared for the wake and funeral of Nana Ruth. There was the quest for perfect attendance at school that wasn’t realized because of the funeral. There was the grumbling over fun and games getting put on ice. We’re getting similar discontent as we prepare for the wake and funeral of Grammie Arline.

It drives us adults crazy, and we try to teach the kids that life’s unfair and we’re called to put our wants aside in times like these. But we grown-ups aren’t much better.

I don’t have to look far to find an example.

My great-grandmother died hours before my 25th birthday. Her daughter, my nana, died on Columbus Day weekend in 2003. Papa died the day before a major relaunch of the newspaper I was working for at the time. Sometimes, I grin as I think of how my grandparents were probably getting back at me for not visiting them often enough. They could be deliciously devious that way.

My brother died days into a diet and exercise program I was obsessed with at the time. In my 13-year-old mind, that program was vital to my future as one of the cool kids who got all the girls in junior high. As a 26 year old, I was again on the path to fitness when my best friend died. From there, the binge eating and escape into work was off the rails.

Inconvenient deaths, mucking up all my best-made plans.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained a lot more perspective on these things. I’ve slowly learned that life can be disrupted without being derailed completely. In the old days, when my life lost control following death, it was usually my own doing.

Today, I’m better at temporarily putting things on hold, honoring the dead and then moving on.

The youngsters in my life will learn that lesson in time.

Hopefully, they won’t have to get their hearts broken too much along the way. But in the end, that’s in God’s hands.

Bill & Ted and Death

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Wakes Are for the Living, You Selfish Bastard

My post “Death Etiquette: Pay Your Respects, Even If They Hate You” got a lot of response — all of it disagreeing with me. All who commented made good points, but some details require clarification.

Mood music:

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My point in that post was that if someone you love dies and someone else tells you not to attend the memorial services, they are being selfish and you need to do what you feel is right to honor the dead. Here’s what a few close friends said in response on my Facebook page (with my responses included):

Ken White: If someone closer to the deceased specifically does not want you there, I think it rude to go anyway. You can say goodbye in your own way. The dead will not be insulted and I see no reason for you to upset someone during such an upsetting situation just so you can feel better about “paying your respects.” In your case, no one specifically asked you not to attend, so I think you are correct. In the other case, she could call the ex-mother-in-law directly and ask. If she can’t summon the courage to ask for permission, then she shouldn’t be at the wake/funeral.

Paul Bowen: Send flowers if you think folks don’t want you there but you want to pay your respects. Wakes are for the living not the dead.

Me: I think that is a good point in regards to the wake. But the funeral is all about the dead and a person should be able to go and sit at the back of the church, temple etc.

Ken: Bill, it’s not about you. It’s a family thing, and if you are guaranteed to cause a problem, well, I just think it is selfish.

Some clarifications:

I agree the wake is a family thing, and that if you’re not family you should probably just send flowers. I also agree that if someone is a loose cannon around certain people, they should stay away. Nobody should go to a wake or funeral knowing that they will cause mayhem.

But the person I wrote about was part of that family and was close to the deceased. Telling her to stay away is selfish, too (selfishness can go both ways). I do agree with everyone commenting that a good middle ground is to skip the wake and go to the funeral, hanging at the back of the church. The person I wrote about is being discouraged from doing even that, and since it’s family, I think that’s unfair.

I also should have been clearer about the wake vs. funeral. It seems that readers thought I was talking mostly about the wake, and that since wakes are for the living more than the dead my arguments are invalid.

But I was talking about the funeral as much as the wake. Unless the obituary calls it a private service, anyone should be able to go and sit in the back of the church. Wakes are another matter. I agree that if you know you will cause a problem, you should stay away. But then this post wasn’t directed at the loose cannons. It was directed toward reasonable people who never willingly inject chaos into a wake.

I also think people missed the full picture in the example I gave. That’s because I held back a lot of detail to preserve the anonymity of those involved. In doing so, I didn’t give you a clear picture of where the dysfunctional family fault lines are.

It’s hard to give an informed opinion when you’re not fully informed.

At the end of the day, I think this is a useful discussion to have if it helps us conduct ourselves better going forward.

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Grief Management Put to Music

Weeks after a loved one dies and we’ve allowed ourselves to fall apart, we have to make a choice: Stay in a fetal position, hidden from the world, or stand up and move forward. This is a little tribute to someone who made the latter choice.

Mood music:

[soundcloud url=”http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/48842027″ iframe=”true” /]

I don’t know Ian Clark very well. We’re connected on Facebook, and I’m very fond of his mom’s band, The 360s (he plays drums in that band and is guitarist/vocalist in a band called Razors in the Night). But I sure as hell know what he’s going through.

A few weeks ago, he lost his best friend and cousin, James Morrill. I’ve watched his family grieve in their Facebook posts, and I can’t help but remember when my brother died unexpectedly in 1984 and my best friend followed suit nearly 13 years later. My friend’s death had a particularly damaging effect on me because that was a suicide. After he passed, I spent the next two years viciously binge-eating my way to 280 pounds of uselessness. Badly depressed, I hid from the world, staying indoors watching Star Trek reruns instead of staying connected with other friends.

You could say I chose to stay in the fetal position.

Since his moment of heartbreak, Ian has plowed ahead with his music and has honored his cousin by writing a song — the one featured as today’s mood music.

So far, I’d say he’s decided to move forward. It inspires me.

I hope he keeps doing what he’s doing — channeling his feelings into the music. Music is one of the best therapies in times of grief. And when you’re writing it, you have the chance to help others make it through their own trials.