An important message regarding two-way communication
If it hasn’t been obvious from the tone or tenor of my recent posts here on DJ, I want to make one thing clear. That thing is this:
Your emails, calls, and comments are welcome, welcome, welcome.
Realize when I say this that I am in no way demanding people to email or call or comment. No. Not at all. In no way do I want to do that.
What I am doing is making sure that everyone knows how welcome their emails, calls, or comments really are.
But at the same time, there’s 0 resentment for those who don’t email, call, or comment.
I suppose that I only want to remove the hesitation for anyone who had been wanting to email, call, or comment, but hasn’t for fear that the family needs to be alone with its grief or must surely be fatigued with all of the support by this point. Fear not, is the overall message that I want to send in this brief post. Email, call, or comment away if you have the desire, is the message I want to send. This is the time at which the Event will begin to recede into the past ever so slightly, and the vast crew of family and friends and neighbors will begin to return—as they must—to their own lives, and the house seems especially quiet at night. People have said to me in various ways that they don’t know what to say, that they don’t have the words, that et cetera. And that may seem true. But I want to remove that kind of thinking as a concern. For everybody. Not knowing what to say shouldn’t be an issue. Considering that there are no right words, all words are the right words. There is no protocol for this situation. There is no wrong thing to say. Everything you say is the right thing to say. (To a point. You know what I mean.) Hearing from other people is the important part; the Rightness of what they have to say is so besides the point that it isn’t even funny. So believe me when I tell you, all, that your words, whatever words they happen to be and whatever they happen to address—the Event, the difficulty of addressing the Event, your red tricycle from your preschool days, how your own kids or siblings or folks are doing, chance observations of things you saw on the subway or expressway today, papers you’ve been writing, hands of poker you’ve won, exotic animals you’ve seen hiding in trees, all of this, whatever you have to say, is welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome.
Your emails, calls, and comments are welcome, welcome, welcome.
Realize when I say this that I am in no way demanding people to email or call or comment. No. Not at all. In no way do I want to do that.
What I am doing is making sure that everyone knows how welcome their emails, calls, or comments really are.
But at the same time, there’s 0 resentment for those who don’t email, call, or comment.
I suppose that I only want to remove the hesitation for anyone who had been wanting to email, call, or comment, but hasn’t for fear that the family needs to be alone with its grief or must surely be fatigued with all of the support by this point. Fear not, is the overall message that I want to send in this brief post. Email, call, or comment away if you have the desire, is the message I want to send. This is the time at which the Event will begin to recede into the past ever so slightly, and the vast crew of family and friends and neighbors will begin to return—as they must—to their own lives, and the house seems especially quiet at night. People have said to me in various ways that they don’t know what to say, that they don’t have the words, that et cetera. And that may seem true. But I want to remove that kind of thinking as a concern. For everybody. Not knowing what to say shouldn’t be an issue. Considering that there are no right words, all words are the right words. There is no protocol for this situation. There is no wrong thing to say. Everything you say is the right thing to say. (To a point. You know what I mean.) Hearing from other people is the important part; the Rightness of what they have to say is so besides the point that it isn’t even funny. So believe me when I tell you, all, that your words, whatever words they happen to be and whatever they happen to address—the Event, the difficulty of addressing the Event, your red tricycle from your preschool days, how your own kids or siblings or folks are doing, chance observations of things you saw on the subway or expressway today, papers you’ve been writing, hands of poker you’ve won, exotic animals you’ve seen hiding in trees, all of this, whatever you have to say, is welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome.
posted by Wil at
3:23 PM
4 Comments:
Wil,
Dorianne just sent out an email. I'm sorry about your loss. I was just in New York the week before last and thinking about you. Did I call? I can't remember. I should have. Anyway, I'm truly sad to hear about your brother. Doubtless, people have already recommended 101 books for you to read in the aftermath of the Event. I'll add another to the list (if you haven't read it already): The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. It was recommended to me after the death of a close friend and it really is a handbook to grief, in that very smart and intellectual way that I think you probably would appreciate.
Obviously, I never met Jon, but he sounds (from your blog) like a kind and charismatic young man. Actually, I picture Jay (what with the shaved head, muscular body type, Alaska and Colorado references), which somehow makes it sadder.
I miss you, Wil, and think of you often. You're certainly in my thoughts tonight.
Keetje
P.S.
I'll be back in New York in July. For good.
By
Anonymous, at 6:00 PM
Thank you, Keetje. You're right about the Jon - J. visual comparison. In fact, when J. gets back from Australia and stops in (because it's a given that J. will stop in as soon as it's humanly possible for him to do so), I'll be worried about my parental reactions to them seeing him, because yes, J. is Jon if you imagine Jon in his mid-20s. Thanks for the recommendation. I'm glad to hear that you'll be back in NY come June. And the missing is mutual. How's the poetry coming? And the MFA Exam prep? I have so many questions.
By
Wil, at 9:16 AM
I don't know if this news made it to your area, but Indianapolis Colts coach Tony Dungy's 18 year old son committed suicide in Tampa, FL this week. It doesn't make your family's pain easier or more difficult to bear, but when I read that (after having read about Jon last week) I thought to myself, what on earth is going on here with these young guys? Tony Dungy was formerly the coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers which is why the story was prominent here. (I live just outside of Tampa). If you care to read about it, go to www.tbo.com and click on the Tampa Tribune tab. The articles have been in the front page section and the sports section. They only keep articles up for about 3 days then you have to pay to retrieve them.
It just really made me wonder.
By
junebee, at 12:15 PM
wil, you are just continuing to blow my mind with the everything you're writing here. it is such an endeavor, such a gift, in its way, to the people reading it. such a testament to your brother, and so, so beautiful, just as writing, as words. you have no need to ever doubt the ability of your words to do anything. the generosity of your writing is astonishing. happy christmas.
By
Jaime, at 7:03 PM
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