I met with my former boss’s boss for coffee this afternoon. We reconnected when I found out he lost his wife, who was a nonsmoker, to lung cancer two months ago. He knew about Ed, too, so inevitably a big part of our catch up was about loss, grief, and how to deal with everyone else and their reactions to moving forward with life without the ones we love. He has a 4.5-year-old son who seems very emotionally mature for his age and seems to understand everything that has happened, so that’s an added layer of difficulty for him as a single parent now.

We talked about how when tragedies like this happen how quickly people advise you to seek therapy or professional help. “I don’t know that I even believe in that, so I don’t think it’s a smart thing to do to just jump right into it without first thinking through what you are trying to get out of seeking professional help,” he said to me. He’s a very introspective person, so it makes sense that he would first try to think about his actions before proceeding. I got mad about that, too, when Ed passed away. I hated it when my friends told me that I needed to get help. I know that part of them just wanted the best for me, but part of me also felt it was their way of saying they didn’t want to hear me and my sob stories anymore. I’m sure it came from a place of simply lack of understanding, and even partially lack of desire and energy to understand. You can’t expect any friend to be everything to you. And sadly, as I’ve gotten older, I feel like I expect less and less because I’ve been disappointed a lot.

I didn’t see anyone until four months later, and at that point, I’d thought long and hard about what I wanted to get out of this. And it had less to do with Ed as it did dealing with our massively dysfunctional family.

People are so stupid when it comes to tragedies. All we want is a little love, and then we get told to get help elsewhere.