I discovered, via reading the boards on Television Without Pity, that there is a new show on Sundance called Architecture School. When I clicked on the forum to read about it, I discovered that Architecture School follows a group of undergraduates at Tulane's architecture school.
Oh God. Oh God. This was where my friend (the one who died) went to school. He was in this program. The show follows an aspect of the program that wasn't in existence during my friend's time there- the students design and build houses for low-income residents as part of the gradual rebuilding of New Orleans post-Katrina. My friend graduated and died in 2001, so well before the need for this program.
This brings up a question- do I watch this show? I don't have Sundance (or cable at all anymore, see my previous posts), so I would have to buy it on iTunes.
I am leaning towards not watching; I feel that it would be wallowing on purpose. Maybe people who have never grieved don't understand this impulse that draws you in to face that black hole of grief and jump in. When you are early in the grieving process, you fall in that hole all the time on accident. As time goes on, you learn to avoid that hole. It is still there, though. Maybe it is smaller, but make no mistake, it's still there. And sometimes, yes, you jump in on purpose, especially after you have learned how to avoid it. There is something about losing someone so close to you. It tears you apart, and even though you want to be better, you want to get back to normal, sometimes, when you are mostly back to normal, you miss that grief. Well, not the grief exactly. You miss the person, and the grief reminds you of them. The reverse is true as well- be reminded of the person, be reminded of the grief.
I don't really jump in any more. The desire to do so surprised me, a little. I might just watch some of the clips on Sundance's website. Probably that will give me my fill. To tell the truth, I think architecture is frightfully boring, so once the initial shock is over, I'm sure it will be just like every other reality TV show that I have abandoned.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Anniversary
Today is the sixth anniversary of the death of my friend and his girlfriend. How can it have been so long? I didn't even realize it today until I saw the date.
For the first few years, maybe through the fourth anniversary, even, I was painfully aware of the anniversary coming up, and it brought everything back and made the grief seem fresh again. For the last couple of years, though, I was aware of the anniversary coming up, and sad about it, but the wound didn't reopen, and the actual day of, I didn't even realize it until late in the day.
My friend had just graduated from college with a degree in architecture a few months before he died. He worked for a local firm, and one of the last projects he worked on was featured in the AIA magazine, Architectural Record. It was a church called St. Peter's By The Sea in Gulfport, MS. I was going to link to their website, but discovered that the church was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. When I saw the pictures, I started sobbing, because the church looks exactly how I feel- still standing, but with the bottom knocked out completely. It makes me so sad to know that my friend's last project, that gave him professional recognition (he would have been so thrilled to see his name in Architectural Record), has been destroyed.
Here is the whole collection of pictures of the Katrina damage of St. Peter's By The Sea. They are rebuilding; the same firm is designing the new church; it is going to look very similar, but it won't be the church that my friend worked on.
To my friend, please know that I miss you, and I wish you were still here. Every day, I wish you were here.
For the first few years, maybe through the fourth anniversary, even, I was painfully aware of the anniversary coming up, and it brought everything back and made the grief seem fresh again. For the last couple of years, though, I was aware of the anniversary coming up, and sad about it, but the wound didn't reopen, and the actual day of, I didn't even realize it until late in the day.
My friend had just graduated from college with a degree in architecture a few months before he died. He worked for a local firm, and one of the last projects he worked on was featured in the AIA magazine, Architectural Record. It was a church called St. Peter's By The Sea in Gulfport, MS. I was going to link to their website, but discovered that the church was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. When I saw the pictures, I started sobbing, because the church looks exactly how I feel- still standing, but with the bottom knocked out completely. It makes me so sad to know that my friend's last project, that gave him professional recognition (he would have been so thrilled to see his name in Architectural Record), has been destroyed.
Here is the whole collection of pictures of the Katrina damage of St. Peter's By The Sea. They are rebuilding; the same firm is designing the new church; it is going to look very similar, but it won't be the church that my friend worked on.
To my friend, please know that I miss you, and I wish you were still here. Every day, I wish you were here.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - spoiler alert
So, like most of the English-speaking world, I was inside today reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Wow.
Before I go any further, I want to warn anyone who hasn't read the book yet to really, truly, stay away from spoilers. I really think that with this book, more than the others, not knowing what is going to happen makes the book that much more powerful on the initial read. I am going to try not to talk specific plot points, but even so, if you haven't read it but plan to, skip this post.
Although Harry has had to deal with death in all the previous books (even if it is just the specter of his missing parents hanging over him at all times), the theme of this book is coming to terms with death and loss. Harry has to make his peace with death- not just the prospect of his own death, but with the deaths of the many, many people he has lost. His parents. Sirius. Dumbledore. Many people cried at Dumbledore's death at the end of Half-Blood Prince, but I didn't. I did weep like a little girl at this one. I should have known that I was in for it when I choked up at the quotation at the very beginning of the book, before the story even starts. This book was so clearly written by someone who has experienced grief (J.K. Rowling has said that the deaths of her parents were what inspired her to make Harry an orphan); certain passages of it just spoke to me.
The other recurring theme in this book is that everyone good has a dark side, things that they have done that they aren't proud of, and even the "bad" characters may have some redeeming motivation or good qualities, no matter how well-hidden.
It was a terrific book. It went very quickly (although I am a fast reader anyway). I want to re-read it already.
Before I go any further, I want to warn anyone who hasn't read the book yet to really, truly, stay away from spoilers. I really think that with this book, more than the others, not knowing what is going to happen makes the book that much more powerful on the initial read. I am going to try not to talk specific plot points, but even so, if you haven't read it but plan to, skip this post.
Although Harry has had to deal with death in all the previous books (even if it is just the specter of his missing parents hanging over him at all times), the theme of this book is coming to terms with death and loss. Harry has to make his peace with death- not just the prospect of his own death, but with the deaths of the many, many people he has lost. His parents. Sirius. Dumbledore. Many people cried at Dumbledore's death at the end of Half-Blood Prince, but I didn't. I did weep like a little girl at this one. I should have known that I was in for it when I choked up at the quotation at the very beginning of the book, before the story even starts. This book was so clearly written by someone who has experienced grief (J.K. Rowling has said that the deaths of her parents were what inspired her to make Harry an orphan); certain passages of it just spoke to me.
The other recurring theme in this book is that everyone good has a dark side, things that they have done that they aren't proud of, and even the "bad" characters may have some redeeming motivation or good qualities, no matter how well-hidden.
It was a terrific book. It went very quickly (although I am a fast reader anyway). I want to re-read it already.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Missing You
Last night I was really missing my friend who died. It will be SIX years in August.
When the accident happened, I really believed, for at least a second, that God had it in for me, because he took the person most dear to me in the whole world.
I knew intellectually that the world doesn't work like this, but really. It was tough.
I wish he was here. There have been times in the last few years when I have felt so alone in the world, in part because he is not here any more.
I still talk to him sometimes, when I need extra help. I consider him to be one of my angels who watches over me. He and my grandmother. I asked them both for help this week, to watch over me because I have been going through a tough time.
I still have not been to his grave. Part of this is because I never seem to get time, part of it is because I know it's just his body there, so so what?, and part of it is that I know I will break down in uncontrollable sobbing crying. I wish he was here so much. There are things I want to tell him that I know he would understand, and he would know how to make me feel better. We always felt better after talking to each other.
The first year was the toughest. I was like a crazy person. I thought I was totally sane, but I was making these insane rash decisions. One of those was good (getting engaged to DH), but the graduate school/quit job/move across the country was bad. Really bad. Worst. Decision. Ever. Less bad but still not good was the decision to move apartments. My therapist at the time, who had been through her own friend loss, was the only one to speak up against the graduate school decision as well as the inter-city move, but I didn't listen. Why didn't I listen? (because I wasn't thinking straight)
The second year was bad too, but that was because I had inflicted so much change upon myself. I quit my job, moved across the country, started a Ph.D. program. Incredible stress, and I didn't react well to it.
The third year I started feeling more like myself. I remember going to see the movie The Hours and being delighted that I enjoyed watching a depressing movie again. That was one of my favorite things to do, and something we would do together- go see a depressing art or foreign film together. I loved it.
So I am more or less, back to myself, existing in a new normal. But I still miss my old normal desperately at times.
When the accident happened, I really believed, for at least a second, that God had it in for me, because he took the person most dear to me in the whole world.
I knew intellectually that the world doesn't work like this, but really. It was tough.
I wish he was here. There have been times in the last few years when I have felt so alone in the world, in part because he is not here any more.
I still talk to him sometimes, when I need extra help. I consider him to be one of my angels who watches over me. He and my grandmother. I asked them both for help this week, to watch over me because I have been going through a tough time.
I still have not been to his grave. Part of this is because I never seem to get time, part of it is because I know it's just his body there, so so what?, and part of it is that I know I will break down in uncontrollable sobbing crying. I wish he was here so much. There are things I want to tell him that I know he would understand, and he would know how to make me feel better. We always felt better after talking to each other.
The first year was the toughest. I was like a crazy person. I thought I was totally sane, but I was making these insane rash decisions. One of those was good (getting engaged to DH), but the graduate school/quit job/move across the country was bad. Really bad. Worst. Decision. Ever. Less bad but still not good was the decision to move apartments. My therapist at the time, who had been through her own friend loss, was the only one to speak up against the graduate school decision as well as the inter-city move, but I didn't listen. Why didn't I listen? (because I wasn't thinking straight)
The second year was bad too, but that was because I had inflicted so much change upon myself. I quit my job, moved across the country, started a Ph.D. program. Incredible stress, and I didn't react well to it.
The third year I started feeling more like myself. I remember going to see the movie The Hours and being delighted that I enjoyed watching a depressing movie again. That was one of my favorite things to do, and something we would do together- go see a depressing art or foreign film together. I loved it.
So I am more or less, back to myself, existing in a new normal. But I still miss my old normal desperately at times.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Memories of 9/11
Five years ago, I was working in DC, at a government agency, just down the road from the Pentagon. I had driven to work that day instead of taking the metro, because I was going to go look at an apartment, since I was planning on moving at the end of the month.
We didn't have internet in my office, but I had on NPR, and they announced that a plane hit the World Trade Center in New York. My initial thought was that it was some drunk pilot in a Cessna. Then, not that long afterwards, they announced that a second plane hit the other tower. We still didn't know what was going on. A second plane was suspicious. Some people will say that they knew right away when they heard that a second plane hit that it was terrorism. I didn't know that at all. We were confused; we didn't know how serious it was. Then, the guy down the hall came out and said that his daughter had called him and said that a plane hit the Pentagon. We had no idea what to believe- at that point, it wasn't on NPR yet, and there were so many rumors and so much speculation. I thought about leaving work, just b/c it seemed like a good excuse, not because I thought I wasn't safe.
Then my mom called me at work, crying, because she had heard that the Pentagon had been hit, and begging me to go home. I distinctly remember saying "Will it make you feel better if I go home?" and she said yes, while sobbing. I told her that if it would make her feel better, I would go home.
I tried to call DH (who was just a boyfriend at the time), but he hadn't gotten to work downtown yet. At that point, we started realizing how serious it was, so I started getting scared. I couldn't get hold of DH, so I decided to just leave without getting hold of him. I was scared, because I was in a government building, and we had no idea what would happen next.
I refused to take the highway home; we seriously had no idea what would happen next. DH called me on my cell when I was in the car, so I drove to the closest metro station and waited for him until he got there.
Sept. 11, 2001 was about five weeks after my best friend died, and I was still really raw emotionally. My DH remembered reactions that I had to the attacks that I don't remember at all, that sound really crazy now, but were a result of just not thinking straight. The two events are always pretty closely associated in my mind, and it seemed unimaginable that my best friend wasn't around to see the world changed so much for the worse. In a way, I was glad that he didn't have to see it.
We didn't have internet in my office, but I had on NPR, and they announced that a plane hit the World Trade Center in New York. My initial thought was that it was some drunk pilot in a Cessna. Then, not that long afterwards, they announced that a second plane hit the other tower. We still didn't know what was going on. A second plane was suspicious. Some people will say that they knew right away when they heard that a second plane hit that it was terrorism. I didn't know that at all. We were confused; we didn't know how serious it was. Then, the guy down the hall came out and said that his daughter had called him and said that a plane hit the Pentagon. We had no idea what to believe- at that point, it wasn't on NPR yet, and there were so many rumors and so much speculation. I thought about leaving work, just b/c it seemed like a good excuse, not because I thought I wasn't safe.
Then my mom called me at work, crying, because she had heard that the Pentagon had been hit, and begging me to go home. I distinctly remember saying "Will it make you feel better if I go home?" and she said yes, while sobbing. I told her that if it would make her feel better, I would go home.
I tried to call DH (who was just a boyfriend at the time), but he hadn't gotten to work downtown yet. At that point, we started realizing how serious it was, so I started getting scared. I couldn't get hold of DH, so I decided to just leave without getting hold of him. I was scared, because I was in a government building, and we had no idea what would happen next.
I refused to take the highway home; we seriously had no idea what would happen next. DH called me on my cell when I was in the car, so I drove to the closest metro station and waited for him until he got there.
Sept. 11, 2001 was about five weeks after my best friend died, and I was still really raw emotionally. My DH remembered reactions that I had to the attacks that I don't remember at all, that sound really crazy now, but were a result of just not thinking straight. The two events are always pretty closely associated in my mind, and it seemed unimaginable that my best friend wasn't around to see the world changed so much for the worse. In a way, I was glad that he didn't have to see it.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Tragedy
I got an email today saying that one of the MBA students at my university was in a serious accident this weekend while participating in an event to raise money for charity at a different university (a bunch of universities are competing against each other to raise money for a charity). We had very few details given to us in the email, but it seemed like the student (whom I was a TA for last fall) was in serious condition. Another email later from a classmate suggested that he was in a coma.
My husband actually attends this university, and got an email from his school about it that had a little more information in it-- turns out that it was a "possible drowning" during a water polo match. Yikes. Our guess is that there was a fight during the water polo match and it went on for too long. If this student doesn't make it, we're guessing that manslaughter charges may be filed and this is maybe why the Dean didn't mention what happened in his email. This is all strictly conjecture, though.
I hope he does make it, with his brain intact. And I really wish that I remembered him better. I remembered his face when I looked him up on our system, but can't remember any specifics.
It all makes me very sad for his friends and family. I have given much thought to what kind of death would be the least painful for family and friends. I don't really have a good answer. They all suck. My best friend and his girlfriend were killed in a car accident a little over 3.5 years ago. In a way, I thought this was probably the best possible way to go when it came to not adding more pain on top of pain. The reasons for this are as follows:
All in all, I think the best, best way to go is when you're old and in your sleep, having led a full life with lots of loved ones. My great uncle went like this- brain anurysm at age 86 while driving his Mercedes. But at a young age, you pretty much only have the choice of horrible illness or tragic accident or some kind of willful death like murder or suicide (I did know someone who died at age 21 of a brain anurysm as well, but that's rare for young deaths).
It seems to me that the main benefit of a horrible, prolonged illness is the ability to get used to the idea of death (if one can ever really get used to it), and also feeling that death is a release from suffering. Mostly, I think this is a crock of shit. It reminds me of when people said to me, after my parked car was almost totaled by an epileptic with a suspended driver's license, "You were lucky that you weren't in the car." If I was really lucky, then my car wouldn't have been hit in the first place. Long, awful illnesses are not a blessing, people.
I am not sure which would be worse, though- murder, suicide, or an accident in which your loved one was clearly at fault. Murder is really horrible because it's the premeditated act of a sicko. You can't blame it on chance or say, "well, when it's your time to go..." These things aren't really a comfort, but they do take away added pain and suffering at a time when your plate is full of that and you'd rather not have another helping, thank you very much. Suicide and causing the accident are bad because then you blame your loved one for his/her own death and your unhappiness. I remember thinking that would be really hard to take.
I think this is kind of sick that I think about these things. I've been a lot more morbid, and more sensitive to death and sadness in the last 3.5 years. Losing someone you love really changes you, and not for the better. I used to believe that everything happens for a reason, but I don't think that's true anymore. I can only thing of one, ONE tiny miniscule possibility for any good that came out of this situation, and that's the fact that I discovered that my husband (who was then my boyfriend) could deal with difficult situations, which was something that I had been concerned about when we were dating, charmed life that he led and all. If God let this happen for a reason, then we all know that God is not an economist, because there had to be a more efficient way for me to find that out.
My husband actually attends this university, and got an email from his school about it that had a little more information in it-- turns out that it was a "possible drowning" during a water polo match. Yikes. Our guess is that there was a fight during the water polo match and it went on for too long. If this student doesn't make it, we're guessing that manslaughter charges may be filed and this is maybe why the Dean didn't mention what happened in his email. This is all strictly conjecture, though.
I hope he does make it, with his brain intact. And I really wish that I remembered him better. I remembered his face when I looked him up on our system, but can't remember any specifics.
It all makes me very sad for his friends and family. I have given much thought to what kind of death would be the least painful for family and friends. I don't really have a good answer. They all suck. My best friend and his girlfriend were killed in a car accident a little over 3.5 years ago. In a way, I thought this was probably the best possible way to go when it came to not adding more pain on top of pain. The reasons for this are as follows:
- It was very sudden, so I know my friend didn't suffer. He died on the way to the hospital in the ambulance, so there was some uncertainty about this for a while, but when my dad went with his parents to get all his stuff, his mom (a registered nurse) looked at the coroner's report, which stated that his spinal cord had been severed. So he wasn't feeling ANYTHING. It also made me feel better in that there was just no way he was coming back from that. There couldn't be any questioning of the medical team, there were no "what if they had done x, y, or z?"
- The accident was 100% not my friend's fault. He was driving, and the first question I asked my dad when my parents called me at work to tell me was "Was he drinking?" My friend had driven drunk once before, during our freshman year. He fessed up to me, and I gave him a good scolding. In the five or so years following that, he never did it again, to my knowledge. But still-- when I heard that he had been killed in a car accident, this was my first thought. I feel a little guilty about this, but I did have reason to ask... It turns out that the driver of the other car was out on parole for cocaine possession. He was probably high. We'll never know b/c he fled the scene, but it's a good guess, given how fast he was driving (45 mph) on tiny New Orleans backstreets, replete with potholes and street parked cars. I think that dealing with this would have been much, much harder if I thought it was his fault. One of his friends from college, whom I think had a crush on him, was just torturing herself with what he could have done differently to avoid being in that accident. Honestly, there was nothing, except to not be in that wrong place at that wrong time.
- It was hard for me to be angry at the other driver, because even though he was probably high, he ran the stop sign at that intersection, which is something that I did accidentally once, when I was totally sober. It was a stop sign that I had forgotten was there, and I blew right threw it. I just got damn, DAMN lucky that there wasn't anyone else around... although if there had been, I might have been more careful. There but for the grace of God (and perhaps, but not certainly, cocaine) go I. (I will say that I was shockingly happy when the driver pled guilty and got 9 years in jail. I wasn't expecting to be that happy, but I was. If he got 2 years, I would have been happy.)
- I had had a really nice long chat with him the night before the accident. Kind of spooky, in my opinion. So I also felt like there weren't any loose ends that I wished I had tied up, or any regrets on my part for anything, which I think was not a coincidence. I really believe it wasn't. I talked to him maybe once every couple of months. I almost got off the phone with him so I could watch a West Wing rerun. I ended up putting a tape in the VCR and staying on the phone. I've never been so glad of any action I've done in my life. I cannot imagine the regret I would have had if I had cut our conversation short to watch a stupid TV show. (okay, West Wing was a really good TV show at that time, but still. Relationships before TV, right?)
All in all, I think the best, best way to go is when you're old and in your sleep, having led a full life with lots of loved ones. My great uncle went like this- brain anurysm at age 86 while driving his Mercedes. But at a young age, you pretty much only have the choice of horrible illness or tragic accident or some kind of willful death like murder or suicide (I did know someone who died at age 21 of a brain anurysm as well, but that's rare for young deaths).
It seems to me that the main benefit of a horrible, prolonged illness is the ability to get used to the idea of death (if one can ever really get used to it), and also feeling that death is a release from suffering. Mostly, I think this is a crock of shit. It reminds me of when people said to me, after my parked car was almost totaled by an epileptic with a suspended driver's license, "You were lucky that you weren't in the car." If I was really lucky, then my car wouldn't have been hit in the first place. Long, awful illnesses are not a blessing, people.
I am not sure which would be worse, though- murder, suicide, or an accident in which your loved one was clearly at fault. Murder is really horrible because it's the premeditated act of a sicko. You can't blame it on chance or say, "well, when it's your time to go..." These things aren't really a comfort, but they do take away added pain and suffering at a time when your plate is full of that and you'd rather not have another helping, thank you very much. Suicide and causing the accident are bad because then you blame your loved one for his/her own death and your unhappiness. I remember thinking that would be really hard to take.
I think this is kind of sick that I think about these things. I've been a lot more morbid, and more sensitive to death and sadness in the last 3.5 years. Losing someone you love really changes you, and not for the better. I used to believe that everything happens for a reason, but I don't think that's true anymore. I can only thing of one, ONE tiny miniscule possibility for any good that came out of this situation, and that's the fact that I discovered that my husband (who was then my boyfriend) could deal with difficult situations, which was something that I had been concerned about when we were dating, charmed life that he led and all. If God let this happen for a reason, then we all know that God is not an economist, because there had to be a more efficient way for me to find that out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
