When Bad Things Happen to Good People
As I write today’s post I am leaving my therapist hat by the door. Today, I write as me. Writing as me on this blog presents some delicate challenges. A therapist is taught by necessity to stay in the therapist role thus leaving the self at the door. Not, of course, one’s personality traits; my warmth, humor and sass is always with me. But my stuff; my daily dilemmas, my personal challenges and my heartbreak are kept outside of the therapeutic relationship so that the focus can be on my client and the wellbeing of said client. For now, my need is to share my thoughts more personally. If I am vague in some areas, it is for the above reasons. Who am I kidding? I am sure if anyone is actually reading, this is of no matter to anyone but me, so here goes.
“When Bad Things Happen to Good People” This book title, first published in 1981, has resonated with me since I first heard of it. I remember in college, a good friend telling me that the author, Rabbi Kushner, was his rabbi in the neighboring town of Natick, MA. I must admit that I often struggle with non-fiction reading, I can read almost any fictional story, but have stacks of unfinished non-fiction books that were started with good intentions (you can imagine how well that went during graduate school). With this disclaimer, I admit that I have read parts of this classic book, but never completed it in its entirety which is my own loss. Yet, the title and all that it encompasses has always stuck with me and weighs heavily on my heart today.
A woman who grew up in my hometown died from colon cancer this week. There has been so much bad in 2020 that when I hear of more heartache I wonder how much one person, community or nation can take. Yet, her story truly encompasses “when bad things happen to good people.”
Margi was two years younger than me. She was in my brother’s class and part of his friend group. You know how it is, you look up to many of the kids a few grades ahead of you and know several of the younger students. Due to our close knit synagogue community, our youth group congregated among multiple age groups so I had the opportunity to get to know many of my brother’s friends including Margi and her closest girlfriends.
Once I left for college I lost touch with many of the younger kids still in high school, but I had the privilege of a constant update about Margi when I was home on break. My brother’s best friend was in love with Margi. I mean in love obsessed! He spent hours upon days at our house talking about his love for Margi. There was even a memorable weekend at our lake house with my brother, my grandmother (go figure) and, let’s call the best friend, Jeff, for confidentiality purposes (although any NSHS grad of 1985 will surely know Jeff’s true identity). Jeff could not get his mind off of Margi, and with his strong Boston accent, I spent the whole weekend hearing about “Mah-jee”.
We all became adults and began our own lives. Before the internet, we got updates about classmates when home for holidays or on actual landline telephone conversations. Years ago, I learned of the terrible tragedy of Margi’s husband dying in an automobile accident. Margi was a pediatrician and raised her two young daughters alone as a young widow in Connecticut. I then learned that Margi had gotten colon cancer, but as the fighter that she was, she persevered as a mother, physician, researcher and writer. Margi lived for seven years with this awful disease. We had a few facebook interactions here and there, but mostly, I admired her from afar. One of her besties routinely posted Margi’s beautiful articles and I was always eager to get more tidbits of the beautiful Margi. Just six weeks ago I was back in New England for a socially distanced family Bat Mitzvah. I was happy to catch up with Jeff (happily married and well beyond his adolescent crush) who sadly informed me that Margi was not doing well.
Earlier this week my brother passed on a heartfelt email forwarded from his friend group that Margi had died. I have spent the past two days rereading Margi’s beautiful articles and stalking her Facebook to see the gorgeous tributes her friends are posting. I have learned, what I instinctively knew, what a beautiful person she was. One post stood out written by one of her medical students lamenting about how many patients she had to see in a given day only to spend the rest of her evening catching up on the day’s charting of these same patients. This woman shared how Margi taught her to slow down and attend to the family, learn about the mother and her breastfeeding issues, or their food scarcity and all of the other factors contributing to the patient’s health concerns. This one post exemplified the “good people” that was Margi.
There are cruel people in this world. There is a brutal inhuman person currently pretending to run this country. Margi’s children are now without either parent. Tell me please how any of this makes sense! I am enraged and hurting for our world and for Margi’s family. I know that this is the moment when I must return to my unfinished copy of “When Bad Things Happen to Good People” and really read it because Rabbi Kushner can help me find some peace out of this pain. I can’t make sense of it and I need some clarity.
To all who knew and loved Margi, I am grieving with you.
(Click here to read one of the many fantastic articles written by Margi.)