Friend
Grief and Anger: When Your Friend Dies and No One Gives A Damn
grew from a conversation I had with my friend, Delle Chatman, in 2006. We were
sitting in Metropolis, the coffee house we frequented, and she was in remission
from ovarian cancer. An idea had been bouncing around my head, and though I was
nervous, I told her I had an idea for a book to write. She was enthusiastic as
always, and I promised her I’d do it.
I guess it was writers block that I suffered from for a
long time after she died that November. I would interview someone and try to
write their story, but couldn’t. I despaired of being able to keep my promise
and put the project away.
It wasn’t until August, 2009, that I broke through
that block. Suddenly it became clear – format, tone, topics – and two months
later I was on my first research trip. This blog started in February, 2011,
coinciding with my first writers’ conference. The rest, as they say, is
history.
So today I sit at Metropolis once again, still
glancing occasionally at the door, half-expecting Delle to walk in. I’ll do a
book signing here, because there’s no more appropriate location. I owe this all
to her: for not being offended by my idea, for encouraging me to embark on a
career that deep-down I’d wanted to do all my life, for believing in me when I
didn’t believe in myself. I hope she’s pleased.
Here’s an excerpt:
I’ve
had friends who died from enemy gunfire and cancer, car accidents and suicide,
AIDS and the 9/11 attacks. Not one of those deaths made sense to me. Not one of
those friends deserved to suffer - sometimes for years, sometimes for seconds.
Not one of those deaths could be justified in my mind as being necessary.
But
all forced me to admit that I could not change what had happened, and for a
control freak, that’s a tough lesson.
We’re
all control freaks when it comes to death. We have no control over the
circumstances of our birth and very little over the circumstances of our death.
And since we tend to be adults when the second one happens, we believe we
should have a say: not only about our own deaths, but about those of the people
we love.
If
possible, all of us would do whatever was in our power to spare our friend’s
suffering and death. Love does that: it makes you want to protect the ones you
love. The hardest lesson of all is that, ultimately, you can’t.
But
instead of throwing a much-deserved tantrum because we have no power, we have
to sit back and say, “I hate that this happened to my friend. I hate it with
every breath I take. But I can’t change it, and that kills me, a little, too.”
Ordering information is available on the Books page.