Day 115

Dragging today. I woke up early so we had time to get a decent breakfast before our 8AM session with Andrea. Nothing seemed amiss until this afternoon when it became clear that I could not concentrate. A little while later, I was having trouble staying awake. Weird. That hasn't happened in a long time. 

Today I sent an email to Marc Maron. For whatever reason,  I wanted him to know that I was at his show Friday night and that I'd recently experienced a terrible tragedy. I don't expect anything to come of it, but that is of no consequence. I just wanted to tell him about Damian and what it was like, after 4 months, to hear jokes about suicide and the loss of someone so close to me. Not in accusatory way, just relating what I was thinking and feeling. Probably more for my benefit than for his. Anyway, here is the email that I sent:

Marc, 

I was at Friday night’s show in Atlanta. I was on the fence about going but not because of my feelings toward you. I’ve been a fan for a number of years having listened to 300+ WTF episodes and watched all of GLOW - I’m bummed it didn’t get picked up for a 3rd season - and most of Maron. No, my hesitation was that I wasn’t  sure that I was ready to go all in again with comedy. 

Just before Christmas, my 15 year old son took his own life. There were no warning signs – I go to bed on a Friday night and everything is fine; the next morning I wake up and find him dead and gone. Forever. It was an absolutely devastating tragedy. Soul-crushing. In the 4 months since Damian died, my wife and I have been slowly coming to terms with his loss, what his absence means to us and the trajectory of our lives, and trying to let go of the question of “Why?”. Some days are harder than others, but all in all, we are doing ok. 

I don’t remember if I bought the tickets to your show before or after he died. I just remember that I saw you were coming to Atlanta and impulsively bought the tickets. As the show date grew nearer, I was wrestling with whether or not to go. There was, admittedly, some appeal in just staying home and not dealing with Atlanta’s consistently terrible traffic congestion. Another part of my hesitation stemmed from my survivors guilt – feeling guilty for laughing and experiencing moments of joy in the wake of my son’s death. I don’t know where this feeling comes from but it is, admittedly, difficult to tamp down 100% of the time. I think one thing that helped alleviate some of this anxiety (?) was knowing that you had gone through your own trauma having recently lost Lynn. I figured if you can get up on stage after that and “still find the funny”, then I can ought to be able sit through your act without falling apart so I put my boots on and headed down to Buckhead to see the show. (Traffic be damned.)

I’m happy to report that I didn’t fall apart (yeah), but some of the material was difficult for me to sit through. The story of the guy who bum-rushed you on stage because you refused to stop telling a suicide joke stung a little (“Why? Did you just lose someone?” Ouch.) As did the bits about hummingbird being the reincarnation of Lynn and celebrating your decision not to bring any children into this world. The last one was difficult for me because for many years I had been content to do the same. When Damian was born, my wife and I had already been married for 13 years. Having Damian changed my perspective on the whole parenting thing. Watching a child grow and learn is an amazing process to see it unfold and to be a part of it. I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything, but now I’m back to being a 53 year old man without children, without MY child. And not because I chose this path, it was chosen for me. Ironically, by my own son. I’ll never know why, unfortunately, but I’m trying to make peace with that as best I can. 

So why am I telling you all of this? Good question. 

Several days after Damian died, I started a blog (https://cbeisner.blogspot.com/) where I could get on “paper” my thoughts for the day. I’ve never been good at connecting with my feelings and emotions so this daily writing exercise has been really good at helping me do just that. (Our grief counselor encouraged us both to write every day.) That said, part of why I’m writing you is that it’s helping me better understand who I am, how I felt during your show and why I experienced the emotions that I did that night. The other reason is that I want to say thank you. You are nothing if not honest about who you are, and I think that is what I, and likely many others, find appealing about you. That and your sense of humor, of course. While it was hard for me to hear about death, suicide and your celebration of being childless, it was a good reminder for me that life and death are all around me, all around us. Life isn’t all rainbows and unicorns so we might as well find the humor in it where and while we still can. Especially now that it’s all but guaranteed that civilization as we know it is going to cease to exist in another 15 to 20 years. Maybe even sooner if the Pig King or the Pig Fucker (Putin) continue to wield the power they currently hold. 

Stay cool, Marc. 

Sincerely, 

Chris Beisner

A bit messy and disorganized but remember what I said about not being able to concentrate this afternoon. Ah, that's beside the point. I wrote what I wrote and am good with it. 

Until tomorrow, I bid you adieu.