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Ever since Mark died people have been compelled to share their thoughts on the events of that day and what I should do to rebuild the rest of my life. The list could fill pages but below is the highlight reel of the things that have been said to me in the last six months:

Why do you think he killed himself?
You’re not staying in the house, are you?
You have to wait a full year before you make any decisions.
So life insurance for suicide? Does it pay out?
When you start cleaning his stuff out I’d like to have something of his.
Do you think he smoked some bad pot that morning?
Just stay busy.
You should go to a suicide support group.
You should go to therapy.
You seem like you’re doing fine. I don’t think you need therapy.
Are your kids in therapy? I think they should be.
I saw somebody started a GoFundMe for you. Don’t you have any money?
I know Mark stopped drinking a few years ago. Did he start up again?
You should exercise.
Don’t walk outside now. With all the snow and ice you might fall and the last thing your kids need is to have to take care of you.
Mark Fisher can go fuck himself.
I know you said it was suicide but I think it was an accident.
We thought about going to the funeral but we’d have to cancel our plans.
You definitely didn’t seem like yourself at the funeral but not in an inappropriate sort of way.
I’m so pissed off at him.
I know you said you don’t know when he left the house but what time do you think he left the house?
Oh, you’re still sad? I thought by now you would be better.
Do you have a financial advisor?
You should interview at least three financial advisors before you pick one.
Don’t invest in the stock market.
You should invest in the stock market.
Just think happy thoughts.
Are you going to go on social security?
You shouldn’t go on social security yet.
That fucking coward.

I have an uncle who has experienced more tragedy in his life than anyone I know. Now in his eighties, his health is compromised in too many ways to list. Decades ago, he and his wife were coming home from seeing a movie and were hit by a drunk driver. She was seven months pregnant with twins. The accident caused her to go into labor, both baby girls were delivered but did not survive. They would have three more children after that and he would sit by the bedside of his 12 year old daughter as she died from a heart ailment. One of his sons would be diagnosed with the same disease and would get a heart transplant. He would die at the age of 19. How my uncle has endured these losses is a boots-on-the-ground kind of miracle and God knows I am paying close attention to those kind of people. After Mark died he called me and as the conversation was ending he said, “Honey, I sure loved the two of you together.”

It was a profoundly beautiful thing to say because more than anything I loved us together too. What someone like my uncle knows is that the only thing necessary to bring in the midst of someone’s darkest days is light. No advice, no questions, no commentary, no anger. Just a sliver of light, and when you know that person has walked through fire to place it in your hand and curl your fingers around, it you believe them when they tell you that one day you will be okay.

As for the other stuff, you will desperately try to let those things go for the sake of your own mental health and the memory of your husband. A man who lost his way not his love.

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14 thoughts on “Leave Comment Here”

  1. Another personal admition of your truth.
    Your writing is deep and sincere and honest to the core.
    I honestly don’t know anyone with the ability to express your thoughts as
    Eloquently as you do.
    It doesn’t surprise me that in dealing with your own grief, you manage
    to speak of Uncle Paul and Sheila and all the losses they endured in their lives.
    You are a special soul with a good heart.
    God put you and Mark together for a reason.
    And your love will live on forever.
    Sending love and hugs .
    Judy & Tom ❤️🌹❤️

  2. I don’t have any advice for you, I never did. I just know that you have to find your way. And I know that it’s your way or not my way. Of the many paths, there is only one and I don’t know what it is. It’s the one that you find on your own. I accidentally got sucked into the Mark vortex and I ended up loving the crazy guy. And I came to really care so much for you. I can’t give you any advice, I can only give you strength and Hope. Take them if you’re interested.

  3. This is an amazing post. I want to thank you for sharing this and I am so sorry for your loss. I love what your uncle said. He makes me think of Joe Biden, the late Barbara Bush, and my dad. I have always looked at people who have faced profound loss, yet are happy go lucky people, and wondered how they do it. My dad’s three year old brother died. Both of his parents had passed away when he was 38. But he is such a happy go lucky person. He doesn’t get caught up in the silly things that make people upset, that really don’t matter. I loved the cartoons that were shared when Barbara Bush passed away…of her daughter welcoming her to heaven.

  4. Every one of these pierced my heart. I’m not living with profound loss now but someday? It hurts to even think about it.

  5. I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing someone you love, no matter how it happens, really sucks. Three days after my husband died, someone told me i was still young (55) and could have another 30 year marriage. I heard many of the same things you wrote about. I try to think they mean well and are concerned, rather than insensitive nincompoops. Be gentle on yourself. Grieving someone you love takes an incredibly long time. Gentle hugs.

  6. Your writing is beautiful and honest and I have absolutely absorbed your blog today. Thank you for having the courage to be vulnerable. I’m a Saint Louis, Missouri girl living in Manila, Philippines. I’m sending you love, light, and encouragement from across the planet.

  7. Beautiful writing.
    I’m sorry for all the pain (and stupidity) you’ve had to walk through.

    So here’s one: After my father died of lung cancer, while sitting shiva, a secretary at his oncologists office pointed a finger at me and said — “Now’s the time to smile and shut up.”
    10 years later and I still don’t know what to make of that one.

  8. Everyone thinks they know what will work best for us in our deepest grieving moments. So sorry you had to bear the useless prattle of the uninitiated. The beauty of your uncle’s words are touching. So very sorry for your loss.

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