Dear UD,
As November 2020 approached, I didn’t know what to do with
it. The world ended in a lot of ways for many people this year; the world is in
the middle of a pandemic, and in America, we’re seeing increased racial
violence as well as civil unrest and nearing the end of an election year where there was a televised
presidential debate that was anything but presidential. I was in debate in high
school, and if I acted like the so-called president, I would have been escorted
off stage immediately and likely banned from future debates. Personally, I’m
approaching my second birthday without my mom in this world, and a birthday
year where we were both supposed to turn big numbers together (first her in
August and then me this month). Not to mention that I’m living alone for the
first time in my life while also working only from home, spending day and night
on an electronic device for work, connection, fun, trying not to go bat-shit
crazy, but not trying not to cuss so much. Yes, I normally don't swear much in
general; however, you know if you hear me dropping F-bombs like crazy, then I'm
either extra super exhausted (check) or super extra pissed off (check check).
In the past few weeks (or is it months), I've been both, and so I find myself
cussing a lot as well as singing to songs where I can curse some more. So,
that's where I am this semester of super extra grading and responding and
working on the computer all the f-ing time and dealing with the f-ing pandemic
on top of everything.
The thing is, Uncle David, for all of us still here on this earth
right now, what we are dealing with is very personal. Too many personal things
that we don’t know how to process, don’t know what to do with, but hope to
survive. I know that. At the same time, because of the pandemic and all that comes
with it, there’s also the collective part that we are all dealing with that
makes the personal even more difficult right now. And what do we do with all of
that?!
And without you, without mom, without family living in the
same home with me, I feel so alone. Just a week ago, I discovered something
disturbing about someone I know personally (not a close friend or family
member, but still someone I hung out with once upon a time), and I just wanted
to call my mom, to call you. I want to hear Mom’s voice, and I know she’d say
something like, “People are crazy. Just goes to show you never really know
someone. That’s why we need God.” And, I want to hear your deep chuckle,
because as horrific as the story was, I know you would help me process it and
then find a way to help me see the positive in the situation, the good in the
world, and the hope in humanity; and you’d make me laugh before we hung up. I
miss you and mom so much it hurts. And it feels so lonely without you both in
this world with me.
But the other week, I read an article that helped me not
feel so alone. In a nutshell, “The ancient term 'acedia' describes the
paradoxical combination of jangling nerves and vague lack of purpose many of us
are feeling now. Reviving the label might help.” In the article, “Acedia: thelost name for the emotion we’re all feeling right now,” Jonathan L. Zecher states:
First, it
distinguishes the complex of emotions brought on by enforced isolation,
constant uncertainty and the barrage of bad news from clinical terms like
“depression” or “anxiety”. Saying, “I’m feeling acedia” could legitimise
feelings of listlessness and anxiety as valid emotions in our current context
without inducing guilt that others have things worse.
Second, and more
importantly, the feelings associated with physical isolation are exacerbated by
emotional isolation – that terrible sense that this thing I feel is mine alone.
When an experience can be named, it can be communicated and even shared.
UD, it’s true that every one of us still on this earth has
both personal and collective issues to handle right now, so it’s more important
than ever to think about, find, and share A Thing of Beauty every day this
November. That means looking at the people and places around us and finding
meaning and beauty in what is, reimagining difficult or painful things in ways
that calm and soothe, reseeing ugly things in ways that simplify and beautify.
You did this, UD, in many ways, and Mom did it in her own way too. “Bless
someone else, and you’ll feel better,” she’d always remind us when things were
challenging. “Look how far you’ve come and what all you’ve survived. I’m proud
of you,” you’d tell us. I miss you both so much. But, for my own sanity and to
honor the tradition as well as honor you, mom, and dad, I will find and share a
thing of beauty every day this month. Thank you, Uncle David, for always believing
in me. Thank you, Mom, for always loving me. Thank you, Dad, for always
teaching me.
Love, Rach
PS: For those of you reading this blog entry, I encourage
you to look for a thing of beauty as you go about your day this month. Whether
you haven’t left your house for six months or you’ve had to go to work every
single day despite everything going on around you or you are taking care of
Covid-19 patients or you have or have had the virus. No matter what your
circumstances, I encourage you to look for a thing of beauty right wherever you
are. Maybe you’ll find it in the person next to you, or in the nature around
you, or in the kindness of a stranger. But wherever you find it, I encourage
you to share it. Tell someone else about it, pass it along, let it heal your
heart. Because you never know whose heart you might bless or whose life you
might save just from seeing beauty right where you are and passing it along.
