fear and loathing on staten island

Well, maybe not loathing. There's caution, a bit of skepticism, a touch of dismissal, possibly a dash of disdain, too (though I admit, that last one could be my own paranoia). But the fear is definitely there. Fear of what I represent: the idea that you, too, could be replaced someday.

I see it in your eyes. It's not always easy to see because you won't make eye contact with me -- sometimes you don't even look at me -- but I know it's there. "If her shoes can be filled, can mine?" So you reduce the entire idea of me to runner-up, place-holder, a consolation prize that doesn't really count, because of your own irrational, selfish fears.

But it's not about filling shoes. It's not even about her. And it's certainly not about you. It's about life and loss and acceptance and not judging people and situations you know nothing about. It might be a temporary comfort to your ego to believe that no one could love your family, or worse, be loved by them, bring them happiness the way you could. But if you couldn't, would you deny them that love, comfort, support, and security because it's coming from someone else? Are you really that selfish? If only you knew a fraction of what you think you know.

You think you need to "protect" them, even if only in your head, from the vamp who just might swoop in and take over. You don't want to imagine that the people who love you could go on to live full, happy lives with only pictures and memories of you to make it through. But now you have to imagine it, see it, and believe it. It's standing in front of you; it's having lunch with your daughters or picking them up from the movies; it's holding his hand or sitting a little too close to him for your comfort at the dance recital. It's me, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry your friend is dead, but I'm not sorry I'm here, and neither is he.

So accept me. Have the guts to look me in the eye, make conversation and be pleasant when he's not looking, not because you have to, just because you want to be nice, because I could possibly be a decent person who wants nothing more than to love this family. And because there but for the grace of whatever you believe in goes your own family.

I hope that I would, in my heart of hearts, truly want my love to find another to share his life and not mourn and deify me until the day he dies. I hope that I wouldn't begrudge him happiness after I was gone. How egocentric is it to believe that he could only be happy with me, that I would take to the grave with me his very reason to live? How selfish to expect him to be alone for the rest of his life?

To borrow phrasing from FDR, I guess the only thing you have to fear is the woman who will swoop in and take over your family. So keep living in the darkness of fear. We'll be out here in the light, living, period.