- Friends are a problem for me, always have been. Someone wrote that friends come in and out of your life like waiters at a diner, and that no doubt accurate description has always bothered me. For a long time, I prided myself on keeping in touch with friends from grammar school, high school, college—and eventually lost touch with more and more of them, feeling guilty about each one. At the same time, I’m uncomfortable with overt displays of friendship, even as I tear up at the finale of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” My father, who had exactly four close friends over his entire life (not counting his best friend, my mother) was the same way exactly. So I can blame him.
- It’s hard to gauge heartfelt condolences from the pro forma variety, isn’t it? I’m hearing on Facebook from some people who have mostly ignored me for years. I know this is a ritual of civilization that is important for re-establishing our commonality and bonds as human beings. Yet it sure seems weird that it takes a tragedy to activate the impulse.
- One of my oldest friends heard about Grace and announced that he was going to drive down from Connecticut to help me cope with everything unless I ordered him not to. So he’s coming. I have a few friends who are like that, just a few. I suppose nobody has too many more, friends who come to one’s aid because they want to and not because they feel obligated.
- None of the above in any way diminishes my genuine gratitude for the lovely and caring condolences (and even flowers!) I have received from many of you on EA and privately. I have only met a handful of you face-to-face, after all—and one of the few I ended up banning from the blog. You have no obligations to me: the fact that you would express what you have touches me greatly. I am on the cusp of descending into an all-time orgy of second-guessing and self-doubt, but so far, at least, you have kept me out of the abyss.
Added: I just had my first conversation discussing Grace’s passing with someone who should have felt close to her after a life-long, supposedly close family relationship. I might as well have been relaying a baseball score. By any normal calculus, my wife’s death should have affected this individual nearly as much as it does me. Yet in our conversation I’d guess 25% of her contribution was laughter. (I’m not that funny.)
None of this was exactly a surprise to me after many years of interactions with this woman, but it does give me some insight into Grace’s seemingly inexplicable insecurity and anxiety. It took a great deal of restraint for me to avoid asking, “What is wrong with you?” I know—defensive reactions, everybody deals with grief differently, blattily blah (as Grace used to say).
I really don’t think she cares. She’s a sociopath.
Ethics Alarms 
I don’t have a ton of close friends, but I’m fine with that. My experience is that bigger social circles mean more drama. If someone wants to do stuff with me or needs my help, I don’t push them away, but I don’t go out of my way to gather people around me. I could probably do a bit MORE of that, at least in terms of going on dates, and getting to know those I see on a regular basis, but my policy is not to impose on others.
I concur wholeheartedly. I could have written the above. The last statement about imposing resonated with me.
Dear Jack:
My heart breaks for you.
I’m not embarrassed to admit that news of Grace’s passing brought tears to my eyes – knowing how much she is loved by you, your family, and friends.
I am deeply sorry for your loss, and immensely saddened by Grace’s passing.
My condolences to you and family, for the grief you are feeling.
May the memories of Grace’s enduring love uplift you.
May the beauty of her wonderful life comfort you, and one day soon elicit an endearing smile.
May the support of your family, relatives, and friends strengthen you.
And may the reassurance that you brought perfect love, friendship, comfort, companionship, pride and joy to Grace during her earthly journey bring peace to your soul.
With love, sympathy, prayers, and hugs to you, dear friend.
Jim Seidl
Full disclosure: these are thoughts from someone generally untrained in giving good thoughts.
I think it’s completely understandable that you second-guess decisions you make. I can speak only for me, but I would be more concerned if you didn’t do that. But I think it becomes more perilous if you move from questioning your decisions to blaming yourself for the end result, which you couldn’t see Wednesday night.
There are times that I can clearly see consequences for paths we take. If I drive above the speed limit, I’m likely to be ticketed. Too many Oreos?…I’ll likely throw them up. Life is full of those examples. I can easily blame myself for those decisions.
But for the myriad others where the end is not known?…if your introspection on those turns to blaming yourself, you risk transitioning from your position as the victim of horrible loss to seeing yourself as guilty of wrongdoing. You are not the guilty party. You and Grace loved each other deeply, and that means you would do absolutely nothing to hurt her…and absolutely anything to help her.
So my encouragement to you – if this can be labeled encouragement – is to not hide from thinking about the decisions you and Grace made, but rather to do your best to think about them with a clean conscience, knowing your are innocent and did everything with her best interests as your top priority.
Gina and I are praying for you, Grant, and your friends and family.
Jack,
I have been away from EA a bit and I just became aware of your wife’s passing. I am so sorry for your loss, your pain, and your anguish. The one constant in life is death. No one escapes it. The most we can hope for in life is to find love and to leave the world a little better off because of our being here. I can tell from your words that your Grace checked those boxes. I hope you can find the ability to forgive yourself for your perceived failure. The terrible thing about perceptions is that they are powerful, and they exist regardless of whether they are right or wrong.
Second-guessing yourself is normal. It is how we learn. But it is counterproductive to mentally punish ourselves for our perceived failures. I suggest you read the book The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. It deals with the concepts of could-of and should-of better than anything I know.
Twice I have been in a similar situation to yours. One time my father called me to say he wanted me to take him to the hospital. The thing was he was 45 minutes away from the hospital he wanted to go to versus the one that was 15 minutes away and I was 5 hours away by car from his house. I pleaded with him to let me call an ambulance or even a local friend of his to take him to the hospital and I would see him at the hospital. He refused my pleadings, and I honored his wishes. I didn’t overrule him and call emergency services. Six hours after leaving my house I decided to have the ER staff stop their heroic life support efforts and let him pass. Would he have lived longer if he received medical treatment five hours earlier? I have no idea. I will never know.
The second situation involved my mother-in-law. One Saturday morning, we received a call from my wife’s brother that their mother was being taken by ambulance to the hospital. My wife and I were at the hospital within 30 minutes of the call. Shortly after arrival, the ER physician met with the family to discuss life support decisions. Both my wife and her brother were unable to make a decision. I took control and said to keep her going. I based my decision that despite her being 93, I knew her to be in relatively good health and was fiercely independent living alone in her home. She was stabilized on a ventilator and ultimately went from the hospital to a nursing home to the hospital again and passed six months later. She never went back to her beloved home. She became dependent on others. After she was taken off the ventilator, she was adamant to never have that happen again. Her last six months were terrible for her.
Two different decisions. Did I make two rights, two wrongs, one of each? I will never know. Both times I made what I thought was the right decision based on the information I had and my love for them. I can live with that. The pain of loss was bad enough to bear. Beating myself up for what I could of or should have done after the fact serves no purpose.
I wish you peace and strength in the coming weeks, months, and years. Be gentle with yourself.