Page 132 of Loving the Legend
I put on Moses Sumney’sGraerecord and read the menu pinned to the fridge left by Sharon, our personal chef and grocery shopper. Branzino, cauliflower rice, and a kale stir fry are on the schedule for tonight. Since it’s just me for the next week, I skip ahead to Thursday’s dinner and make a turkey burger.
As I fire up the grill, I recall the words on the tip of my tongue when Lily demanded an explanation. I almost admitted that Sid’s disappointed I quit therapy. That’s the crux of it, at least. I attended two sessions with a licensed psychotherapist before I quit. I chose Jaden because he checked a lot of my boxes. It’s not every day you find a gay therapist who specializes in grief counseling and anxiety disorders. Our fifteen-minute phone consultation went well. Our first in-person session was even better. The minute he opened his office door and I took in his warm, earnest eyes and genuine smile, my apprehension began to melt away. He’d aged since his profile picture on his website. Salt and pepper goatee and a lanky build. He wore a cream button-down with a banded collar, dark blue jeans, and brown leather loafers. I remember staring down at my T-shirt and ripped jeans and wondering if I should’ve made more of an effort. I stepped into the decorated loft with exposed brick beams, a modern olive-colored couch, and a grey and white Moroccan-style rug, and my shoulders relaxed. The floor-to-ceiling windows wiped away my concern his office would be stuffy.
Jaden shared his background, including why he was called to be a therapist because of the grief that he experienced when he lost his younger sister to leukemia. He asked me about my hobbies, interests, and what I enjoyed about my career. Wediscussed my experience growing up, attending college, and joining the league. And then it came time for me to tell him about my parents—what our relationship was like, when and how their deaths occurred. I recounted my memories from that day and fixated on the mountain view when I spoke.
“So, it was sudden and a major shock?” he asked.
I nodded. “One moment, we were laughing in our kitchen, and the next moment, they were gone. It’s never made sense.”
“Do you remember what you felt then?” he asked.
“When?”
“At the hospital.”
I wrapped my arms around my torso. “Sick. I mean, I vomited. I cried.” I shrugged, thinking the question was inane. Isn’t it obvious that I’d felt fucked up?
“Any anger and guilt?”
My gaze shifted to the mounted clock above his head. “Of course I was angry. They didn’t deserve to be killed. They were good people just trying to get to their kid’s game. What fucking Go—”
My words died in my throat.
“What God would allow for something that horrific?” Jaden asked, finishing my thought.
I found his expression sincere and nodded.
“What held you back just now from asking your question?”
I shrug.
He set down his pen. “Tyler, what if I told you that in this space—in our work together—we need your anger? Your tears, your rage, your heartbreak—all of it. And none of it is too much. By showing up every week, we’re both committing to helping you heal, which means we have to invite in everything you’ve had to conceal. As safely as possible, we’ll need to revisit events and periods of your life locked away, consciously or subconsciously, to protect you. You faced an unthinkable loss. In a snap ofa finger, you lost two of the people who loved you deeply and unconditionally. People who were in charge of raising, supporting, and keeping you safe. Two people who, by what you described, knew you best in the world. What you’ve experienced is one of the most difficult tragedies any of us will ever face. Your entire world was turned upside down. It’s nothing short of terrifying and horrific.”
My eyes burned. I bit down on the inside of my cheek and fixated on the steam billowing around his mug.
“I should be over it by now,” I muttered.
“When big, terrifying, unimaginable things happen—our body, in all of its intelligence and resilience—swoops in to protect us. It takes the reins and does what’s necessary to keep us safe. And for a while, we’re fine. We got out of bed, right? We brushed our teeth. Maybe the next day we managed to eat a full meal. A few weeks later, we somehow manage to even enjoy the food we eat. But then, over time, things start to happen that may signal to us that we aren’t okay. Nightmares, depression, chronic illness, for example. These are signs that tell us we need more support than we thought. It’s important that when we’re stronger and better resourced, we take back the reins by processing and coming to terms with the big, horrific thing and how it’s impacted us. It’s how we heal. Does that make sense?”
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t?”
“No, it does. It’s just they all expected me to move on. How was I—where was I supposed to go?”
“Without your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Were these friends back in school?”
“Yeah, everyone. Friends, my coach, my teachers.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t have the support that you needed. That must have been really rough.”
A wave of fatigue settled behind my eyes as I shrugged and stared at the fog moving over the mountains.
"I should still be over it by now," I insisted.
