I struggled with destiny upon the ledge
And gasped when defeated he slipped off the edge
Fell in deep yesterday. It was the day after my birthday and I wasn’t ready. Lu and I have birthdays a week apart. It used to be a part of the year we always looked forward to. JazzFest usually brackets our birthdays and we’ve been down there together to enjoy all the music and culture and fun.
Other years it was camping in Big Sur for her’s and then the Boontville Beerfest for mine the next weekend. The days between April 28 & May 4 are typically our own little Gallagosen Holiday.
This year was different. For the first time in my life, I cried on my birthday. It had nothing to do with age or the day’s events, I just missed Silas.
This should have been my first birthday as a father, but I knew the Should-Have-Been was coming and I saw how tough Lu’s was for her, so I tried as hard as I could take this day as it came and enjoy it was for what it was.
Another successful trip around the Sun for this guy. Although I suppose ’successful’ is relative. I lived through this year. That’s about it, though. Everything else was a complete fucking disaster. So woooo! Weeeee! Time for another spin.
We had lobsters & oysters for dinner the night before. I woke up late on my personal sun-orbit anniversary and wandered to the couch. Read the paper and dove into a new book from Lu, watched random shit on TV and then Lu made breakfast, with bacon, of course. It was 2pm by then, so I had a beer with my meal. Why the fuck not?
Later on in the afternoon we checked out the Peabody Natural History Museum and then had drinks and dinner at a fantastic restaurant and tap house called Prime 16. Even better, friends met up with us which led to Rock Band shenanigans later on in the evening. Pretty sweet birthday overall.
It was great, except for the dusty, musty desolation of how exactly wrong all of it was. How awful this past year had been for me. How much I missed Silas. All of that became obvious yesterday when my defenses were down and I was worn out from trying to have so much damn fun.
Yesterday I could do nothing. I barely got my job done and then could not even muster up the energy to make myself dinner. All I could do was crawl around on the floor ducking lights and loud noises and hide in a padded corner squirreled into my new book.
I snarled at passersby. I twitched and frothed. I raged within my skin. All for nothing, all for no change in the World, all for spite. Couldn’t help it, though, and so I didn’t bother.
Have you ever driven a car in a depressed fashion? It’s part passive-aggressive, part impatient, part indifferent and all sneering anger. It’s not dangerous because depressed drivers just let the assholes shoot by even if we do shout at them. But it’s not fun. It’s AM news-radio driving. It’s pulling over halfway into the 40min drive to take a depressed nap with talk radio on loud. It’s sad and it’s teary and I can’t fucking believe this is how I roll around sometimes when I can’t handle the fact that Silas isn’t here.
Have you ever depressed-did-the-dishes-and-then-not-make-dinner? Lots of slamming shit around and banging cabinets closed. Lots of pissed-off disgust at not finding the exact thing you want to eat right then. Maybe even some yelling at your wife for nothing that’s her fault. Ugly, unpleasant behaviors that I’m just happy I can limit to every-now-and-then.
I could feel myself clawing at the walls of the hole I was in. I knew what was happening, why, how I was acting out. There wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I needed to get pissed yesterday. I needed to fall into that hole and suffocate in my sadness for a while. I needed to feel the jagged edge of my grief and despair, that rift that separates this part of my life from everything that came before it.
I apologized for being an asshole before bed last night. I drove with clarity and purpose this morning on my way to work. I put this shitass birthday and year behind me but I’m not trying to look too far in the future.
I’ve got tomorrow to deal with and I’m pretty sure I can make it alright. I don’t even care if it rains.


10 comments
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May 6, 2009 at 10:44 pm
Sally
I’m so lost for words on this one Chris. I just want to help. I want to bring him back for you.
I’m glad, at the very least, there was beer and bacon on your birthday. (Was it a good IPA?) There should have just been so, so much more.
You guys are always in my thoughts.
Sending you giant hugs from across the ocean.
May 7, 2009 at 12:18 am
Jennie
Chris, I always enjoy reading your words, but have a difficult time using the word ‘enjoy’ when it comes to Elm City since the subject matter isn’t something to be ‘enjoyed’ per say. I felt your pain and your sadness in this post more than others you have shared with us recently. I am so devastated for you that you and Lani are living in this babylost world. I wish so terribly that all of us together could somehow change it. I know what we can all do, and that is love and support you – and we’re doing it. Though it doesn’t make each minute of each day any easier for you. I do know that our love and support for you grows stronger every day! Sending you love and ((HUGS)), always.
May 7, 2009 at 1:40 am
mirne
I rage within my skin too. I miss my son too. My beautiful son and his beautiful sister. My family. They should be here with me today and every day. I should be bathing them and feeding them and teaching them and laughing at them. Every day there is a big hole in my life. No wonder I rage within my skin at the unfairness of my life.
Birthdays suck big time.
May 7, 2009 at 3:16 am
Catherine
Chris, you did live through this year. That was brave and all of us here know how much it takes just to live through it.
My variant of depressed driving is to stick zealously to the speed limit. Annoying everyone around me. Whilst I do this I compose the venomous speech that I will make if anyone should dare to hoot or overtake. In my angry daydreams, I will drive them into a ditch and tell them all about my daughter.
Ah, there are no words. I wish Silas was with you and his mommy. I wish I could protect us all from this experience and this grief. Clawing at the walls of the hole with you.
I hope that tomorrow goes or has gone better. I hope it didn’t rain. I hope your next spin around the Sun is a better one.
May 7, 2009 at 12:45 pm
Erica
I won’t say happy birthday, but I hope that this current trip around the sun is (much) better than the last.
May 7, 2009 at 12:45 pm
mamaliza
just sending you love chris. this grief-stricken babylost life sucks and i’m with you, we’re all with you. your words are so real and raw. thank you.
May 7, 2009 at 2:46 pm
Inanna
“I needed to feel the jagged edge of my grief and despair, that rift that separates this part of my life from everything that came before it.”
***
Powerful. I’m so immersed at the moment, I don’t see an edge, but I believe you, that there is one. I have no doubt. This journey seems to be one of “before” and “after” forever. There’s no going back.
I wish it could be different, for you, for me, for all of us.
May 7, 2009 at 8:07 pm
Kristina
And silence contagious in moments like these
Consumed me and strengthened my will to appease
The passion that sparked me one terrible night
And shocked and persuaded my soul to ignite
Sorry you had a sad birthday bones. But I’m glad you got to rock out a bit and eat good food surrounded by those that love you.
Day by day.
((HUGS))
May 9, 2009 at 12:18 am
mom
heres to the light shining on the days to come….we love you and cant wait to see you.
May 12, 2009 at 8:56 am
tash
“Have you ever driven a car in a depressed fashion?” Oh yes. And a grocery cart. I’ve baked birthday cakes in this fashion, for myself. It’s really fairly depressing.
I’m sorry I’m late — I’ll leave out the happy, but will send birthday wishes nonetheless, and I’m so happy/relieved there was good beer.