|The Lotus Building in China, by Studio505 (Photo by John Gollings). See more pictures here.|
In case you thought you were past your prime and could just hang up your skates: Eight Authors Whose Biggest Success Came After Age 50.
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On loving someone with a serious mental illness. by Rachel Brownson
After Dave died, there were so many people who said to my very religious family that at least Dave, in heaven, was now free from the illness that hemmed in so much of his life and brought him so much torment over the years. At the time I did find this comforting, the idea of him at peace in his thoughts at last. Schizophrenia is no joke. To wish him free of that suffering was an impulse that came out of love, and I took it (and continue to take it) as such from well-meaning condolence-givers.
My thinking on the subject changed quickly, though. I can’t pinpoint the moment when “at least he’s free of his illness now” stopped sounding like comfort and started sounding like an erasure of everything that made my uncle who he was in the time I knew him. Would I even recognize a version of Dave without his schizophrenia? How could one possibly begin to tease out the good—his quirky humor, the wildness of his metaphors, his kindness and care for others with mental illness—from the grief the good grew out of?