Letter 24 – The Email

 

Hi, Garrett,

Apparently, I told a whole lot of people that you died, but I never thought about it as actually saying it. Now that I’m thinking about it, I remember it very clearly. How painful it was to write that email.

You died on a Wednesday night. On Thursday morning, I sent some kind of message to the people I work with. I don’t know what I said, I don’t know who I sent it to, and I don’t care to find that message. What does it matter? I said something. But the other email, I remember very well.

Word of your death started to get around campus. Pretty soon I was contacted by someone, asking what they could do. People want to do something when they hear things like this. This person’s position, and the fact that she was my neighbor, made her a natural representative for everyone who wanted to help but didn’t know how.

She emailed me. And then she emailed me again. Could they form a go-fund-me account on our behalf? Could they organize some food delivery to us? Did I need meal cards?  I realized after several emails that I needed respond in some way. I also realized that I didn’t want some people on campus to know, and some people to not know, and some people to find out long after it happened. So I wrote an email, and I sent it out to everyone.

Here is what I said.

Hi, 

A lot of you know me – I’ve been around for a long time. I’d like to share something with you that happened. My son died. He was 17. He died of a drug overdose. 

I am crushed by this. In the arc of struggling for my son’s well-being over many years, I never expected it to end so abruptly. We shared many, many moments of humor, love, and understanding.  

I am sharing this with you because many of you have heard and have asked what you can do, and others have not heard, and I would like you to know. What you can do is – give to something you care about. Support something that means something to you, in whatever way you would like to do that. 

I have been off campus for a while, but am coming back soon. I will see you in the Library and other places around campus. It is ok to say whatever you want to say, or nothing at all. I want to thank every person at the Library for continuing to be amazing at what you do during this time, and I appreciate the concern and support of you all. 

Writing that email was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.

The support and contact from my colleagues was painful, and helpful. Each acknowledgment also cemented the fact of your death.

Some people shared personal things with me, that impacted me greatly. It made me realize, even more than I already did, that we all struggle in different ways. All of us have hard things in our lives, and we mostly don’t ever know that about each other.

It took me a long time to go back to work. Months. The first day I went back, I pretty much left again, immediately. I wasn’t ready. Then I came in for partial days. And then at some point, back to full time. I thought of myself as going in with half a brain. But, I thought, half a brain is still half a brain. The other half was firmly planted in the valley of your death, and wasn’t going anywhere.