such a powerful piece. your ability to write about and describe feelings and small details has always amazed me. But you take it to a whole new level with this one, tonya. this one is raw and intimate and exposes vulnerabilities and and pain caused by your ex in such a personal way. Death ends a person and it also removes the target of deeply held anger or resentment. I remember when my dad died when I was 15. We weren't close, I feared and hated him as only a 15 yo can fear and hate a cold and remote father. And then he was gone. "Hey, wait a minute, you can't die, I'm not done being angry at you!" He died of a heart attack, not suicide. there is a big difference of course, and you express so beautifully the anger and confusion of the decision your ex made. I resented my dad leaving me without a place to send my feelings of anger - now, what am I supposed to do with those feelings? And still, after almost 60 years I am still trying to find out.
Tabby, I was 27 when my mother died of cancer. Ours was a very toxic relationship and I was angry with her too. Sometimes I would tell myself how much I hated her. How can anyone hate their mother? Well, it's possible. As with you and your father. for months, I would walk from my home about a mile from the cemetery and sit by her grave. Oddly, I didn't talk to her. I just looked out over the expanse of the Salt Lake Valley and the beautiful Wasatch mountains and contemplate ... just think, dream. Be. I went through several sets of friends talking about how awful my mother was. I could almost here them cringe the moment I said, "My mother ....." Years, decades later, I guess I exhausted the anger and malice. I put her and myself to rest. And whenever she whispers in my ear some nasty little putdown, I tell her to go back to Hell where she came from. "Go hang out with my father-in-law. The two of you are a pair." I guess those angers are still there. I often wonder what our reunion would be like when I pass through the veil.
my hateful feelings as a 15yo have settled into a sadness for what was lost. I also wonder if I will meet him again one day. wouldn't that be amazing. oh the complicated relationships between children and their parents. especially when the parents fall down on their job. the life-long impact is profound.
While dealing with my mother's stern parenting style, I tried to understand why she was so different in temperament from her sisters. Boy, the stories that came out. They helped me sympathize, although I think my anger stemmed from her expressions of disappointment toward my sister, my father, and me just before she died. She even wrote each of us letters explaining what she wanted us girls to do with our lives and how a comment my father made to her really hurt deeply. That was a vengeful letter indeed. One final potshot that he couldn't reply to. Truly mean-spirited, but he grieved her loss for years. Oh, the impact we have on people. And to try to manipulate people after death is truly unforgivable.
You're right, Tabby. It's just impossible to know what to do with that anger. I have been trying to just write my way through it as honestly as possible, in hopes that sunlight will help. I know it will only be worse if I keep it all locked up. I'm too early in the process to give advice, but I think all we can do is just say what's true, and know that none of us are alone. I'm so sorry you had to go through this with your father's death. And I'm so grateful to have you as a friend.
I think where I have landed after all these years is just a profound sadness that, as an adult, I didnt know my dad and he didnt know me. I cannot imaging what that relationship would have been. and I am grateful too for our friendship and connection.
Tonya, these intimate stories revealing your life with him astound me. Your capacity for expressing feelings and relating bits of story are drawing the picture of a very sick, selfish man who abused a fine, talented, and beautiful woman.
Thank you so much for your compassionate reader's eye, Sue. At some point, I'll maybe write something about the word "abuse"--a word I struggled with quite a bit after leaving him. There were some undeniably abusive patterns of behavior in that marriage. But it's a word that sounds like a conclusion, and I tend not to like forming conclusions when I'm writing. Mostly, I just appreciate the opportunity to speak honestly and to know that I have readers who understand. Can't thank you enough, as always.
"These American-style tragedies get so overwhelming, all day, every day." I feel this so much.
Thank you for writing this piece, Tonya. The horror and the grief and the truth. Those voices that reverberate in our minds long after the original speakers themselves are silent can be so pernicious.
Your words found me today when I needed them, and I'm better for knowing you and reading you.
What a wonderfully engrossing and emotionally complicated piece! Those first three paragraphs stand on their own as an ode to any restless soul in search of ground. They remind me of a character, Rosannah, in the play “Brilliant Traces” who drives from Arizona to Alaska trying desperately, and failing, to keep up with her own body as it hurtles through space. I felt the same urgency in your piece, and it resonated well. Thank you, Tonya.
I had to immediately look up that play. It sounds like one I would love. Thank you so much for the kind, intuitive read, Charlie. I'm glad the piece resonated with you.
I wanted to write something and found that essentially Charles has already articulated the same sentiment very well. Like him, too, the piece kept reminding me of several other pieces, like St. Vincent's Milay's "Sonnet V" about loss, or the slow "200 More Miles" trinity session road song, or even Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" ("I hear you're building your little house, out in the desert... I hope you're keeping some kind of record...". LIke Andrew said, this piece hits hard, because it makes it very easy to fall into one's own memories and pathways, and the homes we built and then lost.
Hi Tonya, I'd say there's a book waiting to be written here, not "just" a post on Juke. I don't know, maybe that's what you have in mind, to draw all these posts together at some point. But this one is so tangled and deep. It feels like a piece of something that needs to be larger. I want to know why your ex was the way he was. What damaged him so much that he had to try to damage you and "punish" you with his suicide on your anniversary? And what have you learned from all of this? What can you use going forward? How might others, your readers, benefit? Suicide and abusive relationships are both such a mystery to those of us on the outside. You hold some keys. And maybe some things remain forever a mystery. But I'd like to see you dig deeper.
Thanks, Oscar. I have been thinking of that very thing--stitching together these essays into a book at some point. Right now, I'm still in a process of exploring what I think about it all, kind of letting it all work itself out through writing. I'm hoping that after a while, I'll see the outline of what a larger work would be. I really appreciate the vote of confidence.
"Did he forget the redwoods were there?" It feels incredible to say, I have known a whole hand's worth of people who've committed suicide. I don't know how that's possible. The first three were very close together, when we were in our late 20s. I remember thinking what you said. Just go somewhere else! drive! See the world! How can you not see outside this little world? Your line nailed it. I think I thought about the rhinoceros at the zoo. That's an incredible thing too, that is always there, right in the middle of the city. I don't know. Your question is better. / Last night I watched the end of JoJo Rabbit which ended with this quote: "Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." by Rainer Maria and I feel like people should be forced to memorize it. My husband lost his father this year and the best advice he got from someone was "Just feel everything. Go ahead and feel it."
I really loved Jojo Rabbit, and I particularly love that Rilke quote. I've been lucky, mostly, when it comes to death. Two big earthquake deaths in my life, my father and my ex-husband, but otherwise lucky. My father's death was heartbreaking, but it was natural and he left us with such love and good memories, it's a whole different creature than the suicide of my ex.
I know that a suicidal person isn't capable, at that moment, of seeing outside their own pain, but I always think of those people who survive jumping off a tall bridge. They always, always, say that the instant they were in the air, they regretted it. All their unsolvable problems suddenly were completely solvable, except for this new problem of falling into the ocean. Hearing that--and knowing about how changeable life is--I just can't ever accept that it would be the right choice.
Anyway, didn't mean to go on so long, but your comments were completely spot on with my own. Thanks so much, Jodie.
Thank you, David. That means a lot. It sounds like you have some stories of your own. If you want to write to me directly, you can reach me at tonyajuke@gmail.com.
Tonya, It saddens me that you had to live with his verbal abuse and the lingering remembrance of his aggressive behavior. Wishing time smoothes those rough edges for you.
Thankfully, I think time will do just that. It already has, to a large extent. Time and being around the extraordinary, kind people I have in my life now. Thank you, Jim.
This one hits really hard. Thank you for being so generous. I'm sorry that you've had to endure so much torment but grateful that you are able to articulate that torment so beautifully. Keep driving.
What a profound pleasure, to wake up to two amazing essays that got my weary brain cells ignited - yours & Paul's. Thank you for your nuanced mind & good heart. & thank you for the imagery of whittling down a problematic soul to the point where they can be swept away on an as-needed basis. ✌🏼❤️
I just had the same experience, waking up to Paul’s essay on his Substack. I love these pieces he’s writing about putting together the Florida book. Any morning that starts with reading his thoughts is a good one.
And thank you! I’m glad I could be a part of your early morning thoughts today 🧡
Tonya, I have thought about this piece ever since I first read it. Jim was a long time friend of mine. He was a good friend to me at a time when I needed a good friend, so to read the description of him in your articles is making me wonder if I knew him at all. And that is hard for me to accept. For all you went through in your marriage, I am sorry. But what troubles me is that you said he committed suicide on your anniversary, which would be the ultimate cruelty. I remember the Zephyr article when you were married, and when I looked back at it, it indicated your anniversary was October 1, not March when he died. I don’t mean to nitpick, but I don’t want to ascribe another cruelty to my friend that he is not deserving of. Maybe March was an anniversary of another event in your lives. I don’t know, but I am choosing not to believe that detail in your story. Please delete this post if you wish.
March 10th was the anniversary of our first day together. We began our relationship on March 10th of 2010. We celebrated it every year.
I understand why you're troubled, and I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend. I would never want to take away your memories or doubt them in any way. He was a complicated man, and just as capable of extraordinary kindness as he was of cruelty.
such a powerful piece. your ability to write about and describe feelings and small details has always amazed me. But you take it to a whole new level with this one, tonya. this one is raw and intimate and exposes vulnerabilities and and pain caused by your ex in such a personal way. Death ends a person and it also removes the target of deeply held anger or resentment. I remember when my dad died when I was 15. We weren't close, I feared and hated him as only a 15 yo can fear and hate a cold and remote father. And then he was gone. "Hey, wait a minute, you can't die, I'm not done being angry at you!" He died of a heart attack, not suicide. there is a big difference of course, and you express so beautifully the anger and confusion of the decision your ex made. I resented my dad leaving me without a place to send my feelings of anger - now, what am I supposed to do with those feelings? And still, after almost 60 years I am still trying to find out.
Tabby, I was 27 when my mother died of cancer. Ours was a very toxic relationship and I was angry with her too. Sometimes I would tell myself how much I hated her. How can anyone hate their mother? Well, it's possible. As with you and your father. for months, I would walk from my home about a mile from the cemetery and sit by her grave. Oddly, I didn't talk to her. I just looked out over the expanse of the Salt Lake Valley and the beautiful Wasatch mountains and contemplate ... just think, dream. Be. I went through several sets of friends talking about how awful my mother was. I could almost here them cringe the moment I said, "My mother ....." Years, decades later, I guess I exhausted the anger and malice. I put her and myself to rest. And whenever she whispers in my ear some nasty little putdown, I tell her to go back to Hell where she came from. "Go hang out with my father-in-law. The two of you are a pair." I guess those angers are still there. I often wonder what our reunion would be like when I pass through the veil.
my hateful feelings as a 15yo have settled into a sadness for what was lost. I also wonder if I will meet him again one day. wouldn't that be amazing. oh the complicated relationships between children and their parents. especially when the parents fall down on their job. the life-long impact is profound.
While dealing with my mother's stern parenting style, I tried to understand why she was so different in temperament from her sisters. Boy, the stories that came out. They helped me sympathize, although I think my anger stemmed from her expressions of disappointment toward my sister, my father, and me just before she died. She even wrote each of us letters explaining what she wanted us girls to do with our lives and how a comment my father made to her really hurt deeply. That was a vengeful letter indeed. One final potshot that he couldn't reply to. Truly mean-spirited, but he grieved her loss for years. Oh, the impact we have on people. And to try to manipulate people after death is truly unforgivable.
You're right, Tabby. It's just impossible to know what to do with that anger. I have been trying to just write my way through it as honestly as possible, in hopes that sunlight will help. I know it will only be worse if I keep it all locked up. I'm too early in the process to give advice, but I think all we can do is just say what's true, and know that none of us are alone. I'm so sorry you had to go through this with your father's death. And I'm so grateful to have you as a friend.
I think where I have landed after all these years is just a profound sadness that, as an adult, I didnt know my dad and he didnt know me. I cannot imaging what that relationship would have been. and I am grateful too for our friendship and connection.
Tonya, these intimate stories revealing your life with him astound me. Your capacity for expressing feelings and relating bits of story are drawing the picture of a very sick, selfish man who abused a fine, talented, and beautiful woman.
Thank you so much for your compassionate reader's eye, Sue. At some point, I'll maybe write something about the word "abuse"--a word I struggled with quite a bit after leaving him. There were some undeniably abusive patterns of behavior in that marriage. But it's a word that sounds like a conclusion, and I tend not to like forming conclusions when I'm writing. Mostly, I just appreciate the opportunity to speak honestly and to know that I have readers who understand. Can't thank you enough, as always.
"These American-style tragedies get so overwhelming, all day, every day." I feel this so much.
Thank you for writing this piece, Tonya. The horror and the grief and the truth. Those voices that reverberate in our minds long after the original speakers themselves are silent can be so pernicious.
Your words found me today when I needed them, and I'm better for knowing you and reading you.
I feel the same, Matt. Thanks a million times for being you.
What a wonderfully engrossing and emotionally complicated piece! Those first three paragraphs stand on their own as an ode to any restless soul in search of ground. They remind me of a character, Rosannah, in the play “Brilliant Traces” who drives from Arizona to Alaska trying desperately, and failing, to keep up with her own body as it hurtles through space. I felt the same urgency in your piece, and it resonated well. Thank you, Tonya.
I had to immediately look up that play. It sounds like one I would love. Thank you so much for the kind, intuitive read, Charlie. I'm glad the piece resonated with you.
You're a gift, Tonya. Another amazing piece. Thanks.
That was a damn fine piece you published yourself this morning, Paul ❤️ Thank you always
I wanted to write something and found that essentially Charles has already articulated the same sentiment very well. Like him, too, the piece kept reminding me of several other pieces, like St. Vincent's Milay's "Sonnet V" about loss, or the slow "200 More Miles" trinity session road song, or even Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" ("I hear you're building your little house, out in the desert... I hope you're keeping some kind of record...". LIke Andrew said, this piece hits hard, because it makes it very easy to fall into one's own memories and pathways, and the homes we built and then lost.
I love how you phrased that, Steven. I'm always grateful to hear that something feels familiar in what I've written.
Hi Tonya, I'd say there's a book waiting to be written here, not "just" a post on Juke. I don't know, maybe that's what you have in mind, to draw all these posts together at some point. But this one is so tangled and deep. It feels like a piece of something that needs to be larger. I want to know why your ex was the way he was. What damaged him so much that he had to try to damage you and "punish" you with his suicide on your anniversary? And what have you learned from all of this? What can you use going forward? How might others, your readers, benefit? Suicide and abusive relationships are both such a mystery to those of us on the outside. You hold some keys. And maybe some things remain forever a mystery. But I'd like to see you dig deeper.
Thanks, Oscar. I have been thinking of that very thing--stitching together these essays into a book at some point. Right now, I'm still in a process of exploring what I think about it all, kind of letting it all work itself out through writing. I'm hoping that after a while, I'll see the outline of what a larger work would be. I really appreciate the vote of confidence.
"Did he forget the redwoods were there?" It feels incredible to say, I have known a whole hand's worth of people who've committed suicide. I don't know how that's possible. The first three were very close together, when we were in our late 20s. I remember thinking what you said. Just go somewhere else! drive! See the world! How can you not see outside this little world? Your line nailed it. I think I thought about the rhinoceros at the zoo. That's an incredible thing too, that is always there, right in the middle of the city. I don't know. Your question is better. / Last night I watched the end of JoJo Rabbit which ended with this quote: "Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." by Rainer Maria and I feel like people should be forced to memorize it. My husband lost his father this year and the best advice he got from someone was "Just feel everything. Go ahead and feel it."
I really loved Jojo Rabbit, and I particularly love that Rilke quote. I've been lucky, mostly, when it comes to death. Two big earthquake deaths in my life, my father and my ex-husband, but otherwise lucky. My father's death was heartbreaking, but it was natural and he left us with such love and good memories, it's a whole different creature than the suicide of my ex.
I know that a suicidal person isn't capable, at that moment, of seeing outside their own pain, but I always think of those people who survive jumping off a tall bridge. They always, always, say that the instant they were in the air, they regretted it. All their unsolvable problems suddenly were completely solvable, except for this new problem of falling into the ocean. Hearing that--and knowing about how changeable life is--I just can't ever accept that it would be the right choice.
Anyway, didn't mean to go on so long, but your comments were completely spot on with my own. Thanks so much, Jodie.
Thank you!
I think your brave and beautiful person Tonya. Move forward with your life. K. You owe yourself and the people you love.
Thank you, David. That means a lot. It sounds like you have some stories of your own. If you want to write to me directly, you can reach me at tonyajuke@gmail.com.
Tonya, It saddens me that you had to live with his verbal abuse and the lingering remembrance of his aggressive behavior. Wishing time smoothes those rough edges for you.
Thankfully, I think time will do just that. It already has, to a large extent. Time and being around the extraordinary, kind people I have in my life now. Thank you, Jim.
This one hits really hard. Thank you for being so generous. I'm sorry that you've had to endure so much torment but grateful that you are able to articulate that torment so beautifully. Keep driving.
Thank you, Andrew
Thank you. This is excellent. So many thoughts and moments to relate to.
I'm so glad you found things to relate to. I love hearing that. Thanks, Suzanne.
Wow! Thank you for that, Tonya!
Thanks, Brett
Thank you for this Tonya. I wish you peace and healing.
I really appreciate that, Jeff. Thank you.
What a profound pleasure, to wake up to two amazing essays that got my weary brain cells ignited - yours & Paul's. Thank you for your nuanced mind & good heart. & thank you for the imagery of whittling down a problematic soul to the point where they can be swept away on an as-needed basis. ✌🏼❤️
I just had the same experience, waking up to Paul’s essay on his Substack. I love these pieces he’s writing about putting together the Florida book. Any morning that starts with reading his thoughts is a good one.
And thank you! I’m glad I could be a part of your early morning thoughts today 🧡
Tonya, I have thought about this piece ever since I first read it. Jim was a long time friend of mine. He was a good friend to me at a time when I needed a good friend, so to read the description of him in your articles is making me wonder if I knew him at all. And that is hard for me to accept. For all you went through in your marriage, I am sorry. But what troubles me is that you said he committed suicide on your anniversary, which would be the ultimate cruelty. I remember the Zephyr article when you were married, and when I looked back at it, it indicated your anniversary was October 1, not March when he died. I don’t mean to nitpick, but I don’t want to ascribe another cruelty to my friend that he is not deserving of. Maybe March was an anniversary of another event in your lives. I don’t know, but I am choosing not to believe that detail in your story. Please delete this post if you wish.
March 10th was the anniversary of our first day together. We began our relationship on March 10th of 2010. We celebrated it every year.
I understand why you're troubled, and I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend. I would never want to take away your memories or doubt them in any way. He was a complicated man, and just as capable of extraordinary kindness as he was of cruelty.