Dearest Rachel –
Toni asked me the other day, upon realizing that the anniversary of your accident was coming up soon, if I was planning to do anything that day to honor it and you. Now, when I read that sentence after writing it, it makes it sound like she was asking if she could be a part of the moment, and somehow mitigate it. As she was asking the question, however, it never crossed my mind that there was any such implication in her words; she was merely curious, asking for information (and to keep the conversation going, perhaps).
Which is probably for the best; such a commemoration isn’t necessarily meant to be shared with relative strangers, although it’s difficult to ascertain where those that read this over your shoulder fall on that continuum between strangers and friends. In either case, as I told her, it’s not as if I have any plans for the day in that regard; in fact, it’s probably best that it be more and more treated like any other day in order to establish a measure of recovery from it. The more the day is dwelt upon, the more it proves that I haven’t gotten over it, which isn’t a good sign. Sure, it will always be a part of my life and history, but if I’m to move on, I have to put it behind me to some extent.
It sounds cruel to put it this way, but one of the ways I’ve been able to facilitate this is by keeping up with the news. I keep saying that I want to leave current event out of our correspondence, but there are some days when there’s little else for me to relate to you than what’s going on in the wider world. Moreover, it’s a reminder that the things others are dealing with are far greater – which is to say, worse – than the burden I may feel has been set on my shoulders.
Today’s news has been full of the terror and destruction wrought by the several fires burning virtually unchecked in the Los Angeles area. These wouldn’t necessarily resonate with us – the last time we were in the area was nearly twenty years ago, and we were in Orange County, which is quite some distance away from where everything is being turned into ash; even my visit there last year was well to the south and east of the currently affected area – but as the entertainment capital of the nation, and indeed the world, what happens there becomes front page news all over. There’s no escaping what’s happening there – even if we can sigh in relief that it affects neither us nor ours directly – because we “know” so many people there that are losing everything at this moment, whose work we have been exposed to and enjoyed, and who occupy television and movie screens (and, for all I know, YouTube) to this day.
And they are dealing with the same kind of loss that is common to mankind – albeit to a greater extent than most of us will face at a single moment – as their lives are reduced to scorch marks on the denuded suburban streets, with wisps of smoke rising from the embers.
With all that, what is there for me to mourn? You left nearly four years ago, while these folks are dealing with these unimaginably large losses (consider what they are, to an individual, worth compared to us. To be wiped out is a much greater fall for them than it would be to those of us who never rose so high), and are barely starting to come to terms with the fact that there is nothing left of what they once called home. Of course, those that escaped with their lives (and it seems as if most of them have, but it’s still early; the fires are continuing to rage, and what bodies there are to be recovered currently take a back seat to rescue efforts for those who still can be saved) are grateful for that much, as they should be, but the memories attached to each item lost… well, you of all people would be able to understand that pain.
I should point out that this isn’t a case of schadenfreude; I take no joy in seeing what is happening to the literal rich and famous. Natural disasters do not differentiate between humans; there are no “betters” among us, going back to the days of the tower of Siloam and further. Moreover, while places like Malibu, Santa Monica and Pacific Palisades contain residences owned by such celebrated folks, there are ordinary people living cheek-by-jowl with them as well. This is not a punishment being meted out by the gods to such people, any more than any other such tragedy, and as such, there is no point in pontificating over it. Indeed, any such reaction is to be deplored.
But at the same time, it’s also a reminder that there is no place for a “woe-is-me” attitude toward the things that happen in life. People suffer, and suffer loss, all the time, all over the world. What I’m dealing with is no different than what others have to – and others are now dealing with so much more – and this is a good reminder of that. Even those in the midst of this can take a certain dim comfort in the fact that they aren’t alone in their situation – and indeed, the fact that they aren’t alone, that this is a large-scale tragedy, is just the sort of thing that provokes the spirit of generosity and helping one’s neighbor that Americans are famous for.
But at the same time, we have to remember that everything we hold dear on this planet is one day going to end up just like this, whether literally, like this, or figuratively, on the day of reckoning. Everything is, in the final analysis, ashes and smoke; the sooner we realize and accept this, the easier it will be to get on with the rest of our lives.
Still, I’d just as soon not have to deal with a sudden loss like this myself, honey. To that end, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 