ABC's of Grief..."C"

C: Crazy...
A friend of mine mentioned he read this story in the Tribune over the w/e and he thought of me. I'm posting it here to help define crazy. This friend does not read the blog and had no idea I was *defining* words here...very timely. I think I sufficiently defined B: Bitter on Monday.
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The `crazy' thing about death
By Douglas MacKinnon
Published January 22, 2006

Define "crazy." Up until five years ago, I never thought that description would apply to me. Today, I'm not so sure.

In an ironic and cruel twist of fate for someone connected to the world of politics, at exactly noon on Jan. 20, 2001, just as George W. Bush placed his hand on the Bible to take his oath of office, a doctor walked into a hospital waiting room to tell us that we had just lost my 9-year-old nephew as a result of an accident suffered three days earlier. His name is Patrick Ryan Ovide (O-vee-dee), and he was and remains, as I always told him, "my best friend in the whole-wide universe."

Before Patrick's accident, my definition of crazy was fairly rigid and totally lacking of empathy. Since the accident, that same definition has adopted a grayish hue. Define crazy. Well for me, before the accident, it was people walking down the street talking to themselves. Today, five years after the accident, I can't tell you how many times I've spoken to myself in public.

The fact of the matter is that I am not talking to myself but talking to Patrick because I feel him with me. And because I know he is with me, I update him on his mom and dad, his sisters, places we used to hang out or a movie he'd want to see. Is that crazy? Maybe. Most people would say yes. I certainly would have answered in the affirmative on Jan. 19 of 2001. Today, I know better. Or at least I know enough to keep a very open mind.

How does the human mind cope with the loss of a child? With the loss of a best friend? How does it protect itself as it desperately fights to heal? Patrick's mom and dad (my sister, Janice, and her husband, David), myself and tens of thousands of people in indescribable and almost unbearable pain around the world wish there was a blueprint. There is not. The fact that Patrick's loss helped save the lives of four people--including an 8-year-old girl who now has his strong and pure heart--has not brought me one second of peace. Not one. I hope and pray that someday it will.

For those suffering this cruelest of all pains, no matter how much love and support are offered, you are mostly alone with your inner demons as you try to come to terms with "Why?" "Why my son?" "Why my daughter?" "Why my nephew and best friend?"

Almost every day while at work in Washington, I try to take a long walk to clear my head and burn a few calories. This walk usually takes me past the White House and then through Lafayette Park. Recently, on my way back through the park, I had one of the very tame squirrels come up to me looking for food. Without hesitating for a second, I bent down, took a picture of Patrick out of my wallet, and "showed" him the squirrel. Is that crazy? I guess so. Most people would certainly say, "Yes." I know I would have checked the "Oh, yeah" box five years ago. But not now.

Now, if I see someone doing something out of the norm, I don't jump to the conclusion that the person is crazy, to be avoided or looked down upon. Instead, my reaction now is to ask myself, "What kind of pain is that person going through?" "What kind of nightmare is he fighting alone?" "Is there anything I can do to help?" Not questions I, or most people, would normally ask. Not questions I would have asked before Patrick's accident.

Today, I know better. Today, I know it's worse. Today, I know that since the horror that befell our nation on Sept. 11, 2001, these are questions that are being asked with much more frequency in this country and around the world. Aside from the fear of terrorism that has settled in the dark corners of our minds, the human race has to continually deal with other issues that tend to make one "unbalanced." Issues such as war, crime, genocide, poverty, the cruelty of Mother Nature and disease. All life-takers that have greatly increased our fear of the unknown and made the questions of loss much more prevalent and personal.

Define crazy. It used to be so easy for me. That has all changed. Today, my definition of crazy is an innocent 9-year-old boy being taken from this Earth. What's yours?

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Douglas MacKinnon was press secretary to former Sen. Bob Dole.
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune