Going through pictures today, painful but necessary.
A friend wrote me, “As a child, C. S. Lewis lost his mother to cancer. After that, he closed down emotionally and was determined never to let himself be hurt like that again. Then, late in life he married, only to lose his wife to cancer after she had given him the best years of his life. The loss devastated him, and he chronicled his grief in small notebooks he kept around the house, which he later published under a pseudonym. I remember reading it a long time ago, appreciating its honesty.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear.” That’s one of the things I remember him saying.
Then something he said about the heaviness of grief, how his “feet have turned to lead.”
And then this one, which I especially loved. “Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”
I remember Lewis, after the funeral of his wife, being asked by her son. “Why love if losing hurts so much?”
To which he replied: “I have no answers, only the life I have lived. Twice in my life I was given a choice, both as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety; the man chose suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.”
Thanks to all who have reached out to me in this difficult time.
Sadly I can’t always post good news when it comes to the PLL cast and crew, and this is one of those times. Sometime yesterday, Norman Buckley’s (PLL director) life partner Davyd took his own life due to a mental illness. It makes me so sad to hear news about people taking their precious lives. The stigma around mental health does more damage than you can possibly imagine. People expect mental patients to look depressed or insane, when in reality we look like normal happy people. No, we can’t just “toughen up” or “decide to be happy,” because for some of us happines isn’t as simple as a choice. Mental conditions are often developed during childhood due to neglect, abuse, abandonment or any kind of trauma, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal to some people. Not everyone has a high tolerance to trauma and not everyone deals with trauma the same way.
Please take a moment to tweet something encouraging to Norman and send some love.
If you suffer from a mental condition (or if you think you might), please talk to someone. I know it’s not always easy and a lot of times your friends and family won’t understand, but we have the internet and we can always find someone we can talk to on forums. If you ever feel desperate just send me a message here or on Facebook (your questions will be answered privately if you want) and I promise I will do whatever I can to help you. I know this is a PLL account, but the show has a lot to do with mental health and I intend on spreading the message as much as I possibly can.
Thanks for this.
This is one of Davyd’s paintings, which hung in our house for a long time until he gave it to a friend.
From the time Davyd and I first lived together, there were these two black birds—ravens, I guess—that always seemed to hover above our house. We lived in our first home for three years and they would perch on our balcony. Davyd would frequently talk to them—he gave them names: Blackie and Pearl. We moved to another place for a year, and again two black ravens would visit frequently, sitting on the edge of our balcony. Then we moved to our present home six years ago and again two black birds. Whether they were the same, who knows? But we liked to think they were. Frequently I would walk my dog and one of the ravens would fly up ahead of us, stop, wait until we caught up, then fly again to a place where we could be observed on our rounds. Davyd used to talk about the raven as his spirit animal and always said they brought him messages of hope and good tidings.
Of course they drove my little dog Annie crazy. As they would land on our roof, she would growl and bark and let them know she was here and was just fine protecting the place on her own.
Anyway, last night was the first good night of sleep I’ve gotten since Davyd’s disappearance from our home last Sunday. I finally dreamed about him, and in my dream I finished a day of work with new people I did not know, and I found him waiting for me as I came home at the end of the job. He gave me a calendar with pictures of him in his favorite black hat and a big smile on his face, and a package that I opened with an unusual object. “Is this the new iPad,” I asked him. He nodded and said,“Yes, for a new way of communicating.”
Then i kind of came around to consciousness and I thought, “Oh, it was just a dream. But at least I had a dream of him.” And I fell back to sleep and again he was there, dressed the same, in his black hat and he sat on a table in front of me with his hands on my shoulders. “I love you so much,” I said. And he took my hand and smiled and said, “I love you too.” Then a whirl of these new people from this new job, swept around me and the dream went other places.
Then I started to wake up again, because I heard the ravens on our roof, very loud this morning, calling me, as though they were saying, “Time to wake up, Norman. Come back to this world this morning.” And they went on and on, very loudly for a good fifteen minutes as I lay in bed, wondering if this was going to be another awful day, full of despair and sadness. But suddenly I noticed that for the very first time since we’ve had her, my little dog Annie was not barking at them. She just looked up quizzically, almost as though she were listening to them for the first time. Annie and i got up and I took her out for her morning walk, and she just looked up into the trees, looking for the birds, as though she was listening very carefully and whatever the communication was, it was received. And I marveled, “This is really happening. Annie is not barking at them this morning. But listening.”
I know there are long, sad days and months ahead of me. Davyd’s loss feels insurmountable to me right now. I yearn to see him again, to talk to him, to tell him I’m so sorry for the fact that I could not ultimately save him. I feel the pain so deeply, through every bone in my body, and I have cried more in the past week than I have in all my life, I think. And I’m resigned to the fact that there is no way out of this pain, but to go through it.
However a friend just wrote me yesterday about Davyd and said, “He is absolutely here as well as there, (and everywhere). If you are open to that at all, i think you will be able to ‘hear from him’ in all sorts of signs. And if you can accept a sign, and not just write it off as coincidence or poetry, you”ll get a lot more.” And I wrote her back and said, I so want to believe that.
And so I choose to believe that this morning, accept the message from Blackie and Pearl of hope and good tidings, of the possibility of a different kind of communication. Of love from Davyd’s messengers.
I am so deeply moved by the love that has already been demonstrated by so many of you for Davyd and for me, in this devastating loss. It is so gratifying to see that he was so deeply loved by so many and it is my hope that his spirit continue to be celebrated in his art and the art of others. If you feel so moved please make a contribution to The Art of Elysium or The Children of War Foundation, two organizations that were close to Davyd’s heart.
Create in the spirit with which he created — with passion, with single-pointedness, with love and abandon, with hope for a better, kinder world.
The Art of Elysium: theartofelysium.org/get-involved/donate/
The Children of War Foundation: http://www.cowf.org/5252/how-to-help
We are hoping to have a memorial service for Davyd on Saturday, October 25 in Los Angeles, location yet to be determined. But I welcome anyone who can come, who has been touched by his wonderful, lovely, generous spirit. So please plan to attend if you feel so moved and I will be posting details soon.
It’s with a very heavy heart that I must inform all my friends that my dear, dear Davyd took his own life, probably sometime yesterday. Davyd had struggled with various psychological issues for quite some time; sometimes better, sometimes worse, but neither I or his doctors saw this coming and it has been a shocking, devastating blow to me, and to our close friends and family. I am already receiving many messages of condolence, so I wanted to go ahead and tell people, so there wouldn’t be rumors and talk and questions.
I cannot begin to express how much I loved this man. He was a genius, an amazing artist, a devoted companion; truly the light of my life, the perfect companion for me, and he made me happy every single day of the ten years we spent together. Ultimately I think he was such a sensitive soul that this world became too much for him. But I was lucky to be with him, in the light as well as the shadow, and I’m only sorry that at the end I wasn’t able to see that he was slipping away from me. I’m still in a state of shock but we will soon be organizing something to celebrate this extraordinary human being and I will post it here when I know. I will miss him so very, very much. He was the best person I ever knew. And on whatever level he can still hear my voice, I love you, Davyd. My love surrounds you on your journey forward and will abide forever.
Like Juanes? Miss Pushing Daisies’ stylized narration? Love a charming heroine? JANE THE VIRGIN IS FOR YOU. And I’ll be recapping it at Forever Young Adult.
Chapter One up now!
For any of you PLLers who may be watching this during our break from Rosewood, Alexis (and hopefully Catie, if she can be dragged away from her MEDICAL STUDIES every once in awhile) will be recapping Jane the Virgin for FYA this fall.
Pro-tip: One of the Raven5wood cursed tries his hand at playing a competent officer of the law. At the very least, we can use him as a case study against Toby’s RPD promotion.
Does it concern anyone else that Norman Buckley doesn't like Ezria?
honestly it isn’t so much that he doesn’t like ezria, but he just really doesn’t like ezrians. some of them were rude to him so I get it but he can be a real dick sometimes. but I don’t really bother with any of that stuff
How can one respond to this with class, I wonder?
Your mind has a way of not letting you forget things you wish you could. Especially with people. Like, you’ll always try your best to forget things that people say to you or about you, but you always remember. And you’ll try to forget things you’ve seen that no one should see, but you just can’t do it. And when you try to forget someone’s face, you can’t get it out of your head.
—John Corey Whaley, Where Things Come Back