Epilogue: A Cure Was Not to Be

I’d like to think someday I’ll know how to deal with death. I’d like to believe that someday I’ll know exactly what to do when somebody tells me they’re thinking of taking their own life. I hope someday I’ll be perfect at understanding people around me who suffer with mental illness.

For now, I’m going to choose to forgive myself.

Now that all this time has passed, I feel relieved. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel happy.

And I don’t feel bad.

We put a poem in the newspaper on the anniversary of her death, and it ended like this:

“So when I saw you sleeping so peaceful, free from pain.

I could not wish you back

To suffer that again.”

Some people didn't understand when they read it, and maybe I was one of those people, but that was okay.

Now I understand.

Scene 12: I Just Can't

Setting: the Mountains near Jasper, possibly represented by a slide and sound effects.

Shawn:

I can usually cheer myself up if I want to. If things aren't going my way, I’ll just give myself a distraction. It doesn't really matter what it is. It could be a movie, dinner out, a phone call with a friend, or a trip somewhere.

I remember when we decided Mom need a trip somewhere.

It seemed like she was in a rut. No matter how nice and comfortable things were at home, she was sad. She was distant. She wasn't herself.

Our family loved the mountains. There was a time when we went every year, and it was always at the right time, and the way I remember it, we all felt better after a nice long trip.

So we decided to take her to Jasper.

The weather was perfect. It was a pleasant drive on a warm, late summer day. I’m sure we listened to oldies on the drive out there, and Mom was quiet as usual. I’m sure she slept most of the time.

It always seems like it shouldn't take that long to get out to the mountains, but it was a pretty long drive. We didn't get started out that day until later than usual. When Mom was feeling good, she was like a drill sergeant, and she would've had us out on the road just after 6:00 am.

But she wasn't feeling good.

It was already mid-afternoon when we got there, so we drove out to one of the lakes to take in the scenery. I remember going for a nice walk on a path that followed the lake, and it ended up going pretty high to a lookout point where everything looked like a painting. The sun was starting to almost set, so we decided to head back. Mom looked like she was feeling pretty peaceful, so I knew the magic of the mountains was working on her.

We had a nice dinner somewhere not too far from the lake and started to head to our room for the night. There was just enough light left for us to watch the fish jump out of the water. There was a special feeling to the evening. I noticed a smile on my Mom’s face.

Success.

When Mom felt good, I felt good.

We made our way back to our room, and I noticed Mom’s smile slowly fade. That’s okay, she’s not a clown, and I don’t need a smile painted on her all the time. I figured she was still feeling better, just on the inside.

And then the morning came.

She looked tired, distant, not herself. I couldn't believe it.

I had to say something.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Don’t you remember yesterday? We had a great walk down by the lake, we took some pictures, and we even saw the fish jumping out of the water. Didn't that make you feel good? Wasn't it nice to be there?"

"Why can’t you just be happy?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I just can't.”

…

I didn't understand. I thought the mission had been accomplished. How could she go back to feeling sad so quickly? Why couldn't she just hold onto that feeling and ride it out until she felt better?

Because she just… couldn't.

Have you ever had a delayed epiphany?

It took me 15 years to understand what someone means when they say they just can’t feel better. It’s so much easier for someone like me to just not get it, and just think that everyone can give their head a shake… Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Snap out of it! What is this accomplishing? Don’t you want your life back? Don’t you want to do something? Don’t you want to feel something else? Why would you stay this way when you know all the people around you love you so much and support you? If not for yourself, why won’t you try for us? We want you back, don’t you understand that?

Why won’t you try?

“Because I just can’t.”

If I could have that moment back. But I just can’t.

I love you, Mom. I’m sorry you feel this way. Just know you are loved, that’s all I want to say.

I’m letting you go, for both of us.

I’m letting you go.

Scene 11: Laughing at Death Part 2

Setting: A funeral home, empty stage

Shawn:

I remember the first time I saw her after it finally happened.

Nothing seemed real to me so far. It’s one thing that I was told she was gone, but despite all logic, there was a part of me that needed to see her to prove she really wasn't alive.

There was a starkness, and grim formality to the funeral home. All that space between everything made me feel more alone than usual, and under-dressed. There was faint, indiscernible music somewhere in the background, and I remember realizing it was elevator music, which I guess is really the only choice given the occasion.  I probably wouldn't have wanted to hear anything recognizable or inappropriate.

I remember waiting for a while before seeing her. I guess I understand, it’s not supposed to be an in and out kind of thing, there should be a little bit of dignity and respect, or maybe just a little more time to take a deep breath and prepare yourself.

What will she look like?

How will her face look? Serene and peaceful? I hope. I don’t want to see any pain.

How do I react when I see her? Am I still human if I don’t cry?

Will her neck look okay? Will they have to do something to hide it if it doesn’t look okay?

I shouldn't even think about that.

Will there be a… smell? Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Who thinks that?

And while all those thoughts were swirling around in my head, we were called in to see her.

Suddenly the elevator music was quite audible in the room we entered. Typically, I think the only way I've ever heard elevator music was very quiet, so there was something quite unsettling about it. The room was unnecessarily huge in my mind, and we had to make a big dramatic cross to get to the coffin.

There were no words, but I could pick out the tune:

“And I think it's gonna be a long long time, ‘til touch down brings me round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home…”

Christ.

The journey across the room seemed both dramatic and bizarre, given the soundtrack. I started to see her head, just the hair at first, and I knew something wasn't quite right.

“Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids, In fact it’s cold as hell, And there’s no one there to raise them if you did…”

Mom was never one to get too made up for anything. She did her hair very simple, and most of the time, there was really no makeup to speak of. Now and then, if she was feeling really wild, she’d do lipstick and eye shadow.

Looks like they decided to give Mom a makeover.

Here was this woman, with well-done and very big curly hair. She had dark eye makeup, a nice deep blue with additional smokiness I’d never thought possible. Her cheeks were done up in a rosy red blush, and her lipstick was a deep Merlot.

“I'm a rocket man
Rocket man!
Burnin' out his fuse
Up here alone…”

I could feel a smirk creeping onto my face. This was not making things feel more grounded in reality at all. If anything, it was making things feel completely dreamlike and surreal.

“And I think it’s gonna be a long long time… And I think it’s gonna be a long long time…”

I relaxed. All the tension left me.

I knew we’d have to say something so that they could have her… altered… to look more like herself, so I was glad for the viewing. In a strange way, it might have gone exactly how I needed it to go.

I don’t know what to do with death, and at that time it seemed like death didn't know what to do with me, so we were getting along just fine.