Must-Watch: Dead to Me on Netflix

Dead to Me Dead to MePSA: We finished watching Dead to Me on Netflix this weekend…and, OMG, it’s soooooo good. Please consider this post my formal recommendation to watch this show RIGHT NOW.

The premise sounds simple enough — maybe even a bit ho-hum, been-there-done-that: Widow Jen meets free spirit, quirky Judy in a grief support group and the two quickly bond. Their friendship develops over the 10-episode series and you quickly become invested in these characters. You feel for them and their story, even the story that involves a huge secret that could destroy Jen and Judy’s relationship.

On the surface, Dead to Me gives off a psychological thriller vibe, but make no mistake: The heart of the show is about love, loss and how you pick up the pieces to come back from the unthinkable. Sure, the plot is a bit far-fetched (just watch it and you’ll see what I mean…), but there’s something very real about the show’s portrayal of grief. It’s raw and gritty. It’s not neat and tidy. It makes you sad and angry and confused, and sometimes, you feel all those emotions at the very same time.

And speaking of anger, can I just say how much I totally identified with Jen?!?! The anger that comes with grief is powerful, and I just kept nodding along as we were watching and thinking, “YES, she is saying exactly what I’m thinking so much of the time!”

Christina Applegate, who plays Jen, recently talked about why her character reminds us of ourselves, and I couldn’t agree more with her words…

Jen is unlike anyone, but she’s an Everywoman. The world is trying to get her to stop being who she is and stop feeling what she’s feeling and as a result she is incredibly rageful and reactive. She doesn’t know how to smile or laugh or let anyone comfort her. When she meets Judy, it’s life-changing.

I’ve gone through grief in my life. Some people didn’t understand. There’s nothing that holds you down in your grief more than people trying to get you to stop feeling what you’re feeling. Jen and Judy both allow each other to feel what they need to feel. That understanding and that sisterhood is a bond that cannot be broken.

Dead to MeAMEN, don’t you think, friends? Have you binge-watched Dead to Me yet? What did you think of that cliffhanger ending? I suggest that you watch it on the weekend because I’m pretty sure you’ll want to watch multiple episodes in one sitting like we did… xoxo

P.S. Remember Bloodline? Oooooh, that was another haunting Netflix original…

My Essay on Glamour: “To Cope with My Father’s Suicide, I Had to Learn to Love My Grief”

griefPlease forgive me, friends!! I’ve been remiss in sharing my new bylines on the blog, but as we get closer to the slow-down of summer, I’m planning on sharing ALL THE BYLINES. Translation: Get ready for a heavy dose of relationships, disability and pop culture — you know, my classic wheelhouse! First up: My November piece on Glamour about losing a parent and grief.

Survivors of Suicide Loss Day was in mid-November and my piece was timed perfectly. As I remember my father, I’m glad I was able to write about grief for one of my favorite publications. I wanted to look at what it’s like to lose a parent to suicide in your early 20s, which is something that isn’t talked about very much. There aren’t books about it like there are for widows or children, and there’s really no label for losing a parent at that age. I felt like I was in limbo — no longer a child, but at the same time, not a full-fledged adult.

So I tried to give voice to that — to be the resource and reassurance for someone today that I didn’t have back then. This one was one of the toughest to write (I started writing it in March 2018), and I hope it helps someone.

Anyway, here’s an excerpt of the piece, which, even after 16 years, was still incredibly therapeutic to write. It helped me continue to heal, process and, of course, honor the relationship I had with my father…

No grief book could tell me what it would feel like to see reminders of my father: birthdays, holidays, little girls holding their dad’s hand. Even worse, there was no way to prepare myself for what it would feel like to graduate from college and not pick out my dad’s smiling face from the crowd as I accepted my diploma. When a loved one commits suicide, they’re both everywhere and nowhere.

The most distressing and concerning thing about being left in the aftermath of a loved one’s suicide, I came to realize, is that it decimates your sense of identity. I was no stranger to feeling different—growing up with a physical disability, I was used to feeling different from my peers—but my father’s death brought with it an entirely new sense of isolation. I suddenly felt like a stranger in my own life, isolated from the person I used to be.

You can read the full piece here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! And here’s to us going home for the holidays, wherever that may be! Love you all… xoxo

My Father’s Suicide: On Revisiting Our Carefree Highway

Carefree HighwayOn Tuesday, my mom shared her wisdom on being a suicide survivor and everything she’s learned over the last 16 years. I still can’t believe that this week, March 10th, marked SIXTEEN YEARS since my father’s death. When I was thinking what to say about it on social media, one clear image immediately came to mind: Our carefree highway.

Let me explain.

I’ve shared this photo before, but it’s a really symbolic one. Here’s my dad on our last carefree family vacation, just 7 months before he died. So many of my favorite family memories were spent driving down the highway on those vacations, listening to oldies or Broadway soundtracks. On the anniversary of his death, I’m humming Gordon Lightfoot‘s “Carefree Highway” and thinking of him…

Carefree highway, let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, you seen better days

We had so many good days together in our little car, watching the landscape and scenery change outside the window, stopping at rest stops and enjoying lunches my mom packed. Life was good in that car. Everything was safe and I knew that as long as we were together, nothing could ever be bad or sad. For that moment in time, everything was right with the world.

Maybe that’s why I was thinking a lot about time this week. Time. It’s a strange, strange thing, isn’t it? March 9th was the night before my life changed forever 16 years ago. I went to bed excited to be on spring break from college. I woke up the next morning and my father was gone. No other moment splits my life into “before” and “after” as sharply; it will always be the dividing line by which I measure things

What I’ve learned over the last 16 years is this: Grief is like a river. Sometimes, it’s still waters. Other times, it’s a raging rapid. Part of the process, I’ve discovered, is learning to swim in both. It can be hard sometimes, trust me, but it is possible. And while my grief may ebb and flow over the years, the memory and love of my father will always be a constant. Maybe somewhere in some alternate universe, we’re traveling down that carefree highway, laughing and singing along to Broadway tunes… xoxo

Ms. Bear: What I’ve Learned As a Suicide Survivor

Suicide SurvivorIt’s no secret that my mom has a way of saying things that are at once both calming and reaffirming. She’s been through a lot, and yet, she remains the strongest woman I know. I’m so grateful to have her on the blog today sharing her wisdom and insight as a suicide survivor. She’s definitely one you want to have in your corner… xoxo

Sixteen years! Sixteen years? Sixteen years. No matter what type of punctuation follows those two little words, it is still unbelievable to me that I have been a widow for that long. When I was married at age 22, if anyone had told me I would be a widow at age 47, I never would have believed it. Actually, there are times I still can’t believe that much time has passed. I feel like I have some insight into what it is like to be a suicide survivor and I have learned so much about this process and about myself over all these years.

The first thing I learned is that living after a loved one’s suicide is survivable. When Brian first died, I remember thinking to myself that the girls and I would never make it. The girls seemed so fragile to me. Melissa had her physical challenges and Janelle had her mental health issues. We all had our issues with the suicide and the anger that it brought us. It was pretty ugly around our house for a couple of years. It seemed that one of us would be doing better, but the other two couldn’t respond because we were still feeling like we were underwater. Then the next day, the situation would be reversed. We were never all OK at the same time. It’s hard to show empathy to someone when you are drowning yourself.

I also learned that the grief of suicide can be too much for many people. I remember talking to various professionals and feeling that they had no clue! It’s one thing to read about suicide grief in school, but quite another to be facing someone across from you who is just a shell of a person. How do you help them? Sometimes the best you can do is just sit there. Oftentimes there were no words that could help. The biggest thing that helped me was hearing my therapist tell me, every week for 7 years, that I had been through a terrible trauma and that I had to deal with the trauma before I could face the grief. She was so right. There was a page in a book I read that saved my life, as I read it over and over… it was called ‘What to Do If You Found the Body‘ from the book “Healing Your Traumatized Heart” and explained the process people go through with a violent death.

So often in suicide, we gloss over the sheer horror of what survivors have experienced in favor of the more socially acceptable and sanitary stages of grief. “Oh, she’s in the anger stage” or “She’s depressed” instead of “She’s reliving finding the body every minute of every day.” Not everyone can hear what the survivors need to say.

Suicide SurvivorWe had to change psychiatrists several times. One cancelled an appointment on Melissa because she didn’t fill out the paperwork ahead of time. Seriously, she couldn’t even write her name and they wanted her to fill out a packet of papers! Another just couldn’t be supportive of us and sort of dropped us…never returned calls and that sort of thing, even as both the girls were in and out of the hospital with depression. We were so fragile that these incidents threw us into a tailspin. But, we knew we needed help and we finally found what we needed so the healing could begin.

Suicide survivors learn quickly who are safe people to talk to about their grief. But, in some cases, it takes longer to realize who is a safe person and who is not. It’s especially problematic when others are grieving the same loss that you are, only in their own way. Sometimes there is no resolution.
Suicide survivors should not be asked how their loved one died. If they want to talk about it, they will. Again, survivors have a keen sense of who is safe to share with and who is not.

Above all, never tell a suicide survivor how to grieve or how long they should grieve (this actually goes for any type of death). Never ask a widow if they are going to get married again. Never say their spouse was selfish for killing themselves. Never compare anyone’s grief to yours. All grief is painful and it is certainly not a contest!

What can you do for a suicide survivor? You can sit in silence. You can bring a meal. You can remember them on anniversaries, no matter how long it has been. You can tell them you are there for them, and then be there. You can be gentle with them if they are struggling. The best thing you can do for a suicide survivor (and anyone grieving) is to talk about the person they lost, use their name and share memories. These are the things I needed, and still need, after losing Brian.

Suicide SurvivorI am so thankful for all the safe people in my life. I couldn’t have made it without them! So, if you know a suicide survivor, strive to be that person that they know will be there for them, no matter what. It is a precious gift!

Thank you, Luke Perry: An Ode to Dylan McKay

Luke Perry Luke PerryJudging by the outpouring of love and tributes on social media alone, Luke Perry was one of those rare actors who touched a lot of lives in the best way possible. His sudden death this week is devastating and comes much too soon. He was a father, friend and someone who cared immensely about other people.

And to generations of TV fans, the characters he played became part of our lives. For Riverdale fans, he was the ultimate father figure in Fred Andrews. But for those of us who grew up in the ’90s, we were glued to our televisions every week when Beverly Hills, 90210 came on!! Perry’s Dylan McKay was the ultimate dreamy crush in my 9-year-old eyes, and I know I wasn’t the only one.

He was our first crush, and the fact that he was a bad boy only added to the allure. We knew deep down that Dylan was one of the good ones; underneath all that external bravado beat the heart of a sensitive guy who made us all feel special. Dylan was part of our growing up — a way for us to explore the world beyond our TV screens — and the lessons he taught us would stay with us forever. Lessons like what it means to truly love someone (I always thought Brenda and Kelly were SO lucky!), what it means to struggle and what it means to overcome obstacles in life.

Something tells me that we’re going to keep Dylan tucked in our hearts forever. You can’t deny the powerful impact he had on a generation, and I’ll forever be grateful to Luke Perry for the gift he gave us. I hope he knows just how important and meaningful that gift was and will continue to be.

In a way, I suppose it’s only appropriate that I heard The Byrds’ “Turn! Turn! Turn!” as I was writing this post. When you think of Perry’s death in the context of this tune, life becomes incredibly poignant and you start to see things through an entirely different perspective, you know?

Luke PerryPerhaps CNN Opinion said it best in the intro to their round-up of reader stories about what Luke Perry meant to them…

“The answers: he was your first crush, your role model and a passing acquaintance who left a warmth behind in his wake. He was a generation-defining heartthrob and a generation-crossing father figure who projected kindness and a lack of ego on the set and beyond. In death, he became an urgent reminder to cherish your loved ones and value each breath of life. As one reader memorably put it, ‘RIP Luke Perry. I hope you are still causing mall riots in heaven.'”

Indeed, Luke Perry was many things to many people. He will be missed dearly — and, of course, remembered forever. Thank you, indeed. What do you remember most about him and his characters, friends? I’d love to hear your stories and memories, too… xoxo