Tags: Published On: Wednesday, October 4th, 2017 Comments: 42
Will you still be my mom in heaven?
I’d ask my mom when I was a little girl. We lived in a very small apartment, and my feelings were so overwhelmingly big that they had never quite fit.
Do you think we’ll still be married after we die?
I asked my husband a while back. I was reading about black holes in the New York Times, and I started to cry thinking about the end of all things. “Why are we even trying to have a child? What if we forget about each other in whatever other life there is out there? What if nothing happens after we die?” I panicked and, in tears, curled smaller and smaller in his arms.
Since my early childhood, I recall being taken over by a constant and devastating sense of fear of the end, whether of a game, a vacation, an experience, a job, a relationship, a situation — and ultimately, the end of life.
I have never really been concerned with missing the object of change, the person, or the situation, but rather with the aftermath, with change itself, with the divide between now and tomorrow.
This preoccupation haunted my everyday life until I closed my eyes on it through the abuse of food, drugs, and alcohol. I never walked through the woods; I never worked it out.
So inevitably, when I got sober a little over 5 years ago, I was little Alice all over again, heartbroken every time I had to say goodbye, turn a page, close a book.
Life went on; I got better at dealing with it. And yet my attachment to the present and my defiance in the face of change stayed the same: when I fell in love and married Ben I began to live in fear of life without him. With the countless blessings in our life the fear of tragedy came, with bounty that of poverty, and with health the one of sickness, loneliness, and death.
Since Tom passed on Monday night, all those fears gathered up and thundered in my head in unison: what would happen now?
He is the first close person in my life that has passed away in my adulthood and sobriety,
I told Ben the following morning as we lay in bed holding each other, after the previous 24 hours of pain, shock and disbelief, but also of family and love.
In fact, the closest people in my life that had left this world had been my maternal grandparents, who died when I was 19 and 23 (years when I wasn’t exactly ‘all there’).
As I was writing this piece, I looked back and saw how things have ended, yes, but then begun, time and time again. Life has so far known exactly how to write its own book; my fears neither hinder nor prevent what had to come, whether good or bad. Life always continued to happen.
In the wake of death, it is in the experience of life that I seem to find some kind of hope, some kind strength. And I don’t have to look back to find it: it is the new life that I am growing inside that is guiding me toward the acceptance of change, birth and death, old and new, beginnings and endings.
I can fear all that, or I can feel all that.
Can’t you see that it’s not up to us?
I said to Ben once we had gotten up and decided to start the day, a difficult one. I felt discouraged and powerless.
He had just told me that he is doing everything he can to be with us forever— for he knows me well – he knows what’s inside my heart.
And it is true: when we live, or when we die, is not up to us. But how we choose to live until we die is.
In dealing with grief, I want to be fearless today. I want to tell little Alice, the me that is still afraid, that she can say goodbye without being heartbroken; she can close a book and open a new one, because the stories she has already read will never go away. This is also what I want to teach our daughter. For what inevitably passes never truly leaves us: it gives us fertile soil to plant anew, to begin again, and again, and again.
On Monday night, at the hospital, our baby girl moved in my womb more than ever before, almost as if to let us know she was part of what was happening; I could touch her little foot (or elbow?) pressing against my skin. I felt the deepest connection, and some who were present seemed to feel the same — life and death together as one, a reminder of what our existence is: ephemeral, precious in its fragility. So with sorrow in my heart, today, but not with a broken heart, I choose to see the gift instead of the punishment, the gain instead of the loss. And if this is what I learned from Tom’s new beginning I can only say:
Thank you, Tom.
Wherever you are tonight
I wish you the best of everything, in the world
And I hope you found
Whatever you were looking for
The Best of Everything, Tom Petty
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My heart goes out to all who are trying to make sense of the senseless. Prayers and love and hope to the Petty family and friends. Thank you for your compassionate insight and strength.
Thank you Alice. This is beautiful.
That is such a beautiful sentiment. Thank you.
That is such a beautiful sentiment. Thank you.
Thank you for your comments. They are inspirational.
What a beautiful way to look at life and death and accept it in all its grace. May the light of life always shine upon you, Ben and your daughter to be. I congratulated you on the last night of the tour when Ben signed my poster. May you and Ben stay strong and be there for each other. From one Italian girl to another…I wish you “meglio di tutto”!
Thank you for the beautifully written sentiments. I’ve been trying to process this loss and keep returning to the thought that “at least we were able to share those great gifts”. Your wording of “what inevitably passes never truly leaves us” captures what I’ve been feeling and has provided some solace. I am sorry for your family’s loss.
Beautifully written. Tom showed so many people how to live with his example and his music. His music will forever be the soundtrack that is guiding me forward, giving me courage, and connecting people together. Love to you, Benmont, and baby Tench.
Excellent thoughts and peace be with you and Benmont as you navigate the coming days where he will need your support. Good luck with your little one.
What a beautiful way to look at this!
Thank you for that!
In a time when so many are grieving, your words rang so true, at least to me.
I’ve been writing like crazy these past few days, I should post it some where constructive!
What a beautiful way to look at this!
Thank you for that!
In a time when so many are grieving, your words rang so true, at least to me.
I’ve been writing like crazy these past few days, I should post it some where constructive!
Most things I worry about, never happen any way……TP
Thank you for your touching words. They help to slowly heal the pain within.
Many blessings to you, Benmonot and your precious one.
I so needed to read this. Thank you Alice.
Thank you for your lovely words. While I do have tears running down my cheeks your words remind me of the circle of life. and how precious each day is. Metta to you and Ben. ❤️
Profoundly beautiful and moving. Thank you.
Oh Alice, that is just so incredibly lovely. Wishing the very best of everything for you and Ben…and now your little girl…always. Take good care, stay safe! <3
This is so beyond beautiful. It is so touching. I can’t describe how I felt when reading it, but with tears in my eyes reading it, I found joy! Thank you so much.
❤️ My deepest sympathy to you and Ben. This is a beautiful piece… thank you.
Thank you for your intimate share, Alice. I can’t imagine the mixed emotions in your world right now, but I am in awe of the way you’re navigating it. When I typed your name above, I accidentally typed “Alive” instead of “Alice,” so maybe that was a sign.
Don’t it make you want to go home
Don’t it make you want to go home
All God’s children grow weary when they roam
Beautiful. I experience all the same feelings. Thank-you for sharing. Take care and treasure your Ben & baby girl.You are already an amazing mother.
Thank you for these healing words. Much love, peace, and hope to the Petty family. And to you and yours.
Thank you for these healing words. Much love, peace and hope to the Petty family and to his band of brothers.
Thank you, Alice. Your words provided some much needed comfort today.
“For what inevitably passes never truly leaves us: it gives us fertile soil to plant anew, to begin again, and again, and again.”
Great reminder. I’ll keep these words close to my heart forever. Thanks again. ????????????
TP and the HBs… FOREVER!
Thank you, Alice. Although tears are rolling down my face, your beautiful words imparted a peace in my heart that I’ve been thinking would never exist. Losing Tom Petty brings universal pain but knowing that we are not alone in our pain brings comfort. I wish you much comfort in the days to come.
What a beautiful post. Thank you so much for sharing this.
grief is an emotion i felt like i knew what to do with until now. it is tough when people close to me die, especially when both my parents died, but i knew that each of them knew how i felt about them and vice versa, so i felt ok with them leaving this world, because of that. when tom passed, i didn’t and still don’t know what to do with these feelings of loss. tom was as close to me without being a family member or best friend as he could be, but yet we had never met. i grew up with him, he helped me through many hard times, and was there for many happy times too. as you stated, ‘how we choose to live until we die is’ up to us, and he and his music taught me if nothing, that. thank you for your words, they mean more than you will ever know. my condolences to you, benmont and the rest of his family. rock in peace, tom! xo
‘Goodnight baby, sleep tight my love
May God watch over you from above’
grief is an emotion i felt like i knew what to do with until now. it is tough when people close to me die, especially when both my parents died, but i knew that each of them knew how i felt about them and vice versa, so i felt ok with them leaving this world, because of that. when tom passed, i didn’t and still don’t know what to do with these feelings of loss. tom was as close to me without being a family member or best friend as he could be, but yet we had never met. i grew up with him, he helped me through many hard times, and was there for many happy times too. as you stated, ‘how we choose to live until we die is’ up to us, and he and his music taught me if nothing, that. thank you for your words, they mean more than you will ever know. my condolences to you, benmont and the rest of his family. rock in peace, tom! xo
‘Goodnight baby, sleep tight my love
May God watch over you from above’
Grazie per averci aperto il tuo cuore.
Beautiful writing…your words brought tears to my eyes…change is so difficult…yet the only thing guaranteed in life…there is so much in life that we are unable to comprehend…I think on the verge of bringing a new life into the world you have that rare glimpse that there is so much more to it. Wishing for peace for you and your family.
Thank you, Alice. Your words provided some much needed comfort today.
“For what inevitably passes never truly leaves us: it gives us fertile soil to plant anew, to begin again, and again, and again.”
Great reminder. I’ll keep these words close to my heart forever. Thanks again. ????????????
TP and the HBs… FOREVER!
This is absolutely BEAUTIFUL! Thank you for this! I have been gutted this week with the news. I can’t imagine how you all are feeling. What beautiful blog. God bless you, Ben and your little one. You are all in my prayers
Thank you for this wonderful article and please tell Ben, on behalf of the fans all around the world, that we love him and the rest other friends/band members just as much as we loved Tom.
They wrote to soundtrack to our lives.
God bless you and your family!
I can fear all that, or I can feel all that.
Can’t you see that it’s not up to us?
This is so beautifully written. What a gift you have given. Thank you. That is the risk with love. Loss. I think about it with my husband too. How could I go on without him. After Tom I was so. Shocked I just felt so vulnerable. I made my husband go to the doctor today. I just felt So fragile and vulnerable. But yes our power is not to say how we die, but how we live. Yes. That’s it. Thank you. To New beginnings….and tom Petty- what a past we have to look forward to. Thank you tom
Iunderstand the fear of the end. It has haunted me since I lost my dad when I was eight. He dropped me and my brother and sister off at school, and that’s the last day we saw him. He got killed in an accident at his job.
That day left me with a sense of dread, a fear of change, and an uneasiness with commitment, since inevitably my loved one(s) will die and/or leave somehow or someway.
Not sure how you’re doing working through your fear of change. Keep writing and I’ll keep reading. Your words are helpful, and I thank you.
Beautiful, beautiful. One of my favorite songs…our time on earth is finite but our energy is eternal…the sum of our energy and earthly experience makes up our soul and our souls are our fingerprints on the universe and the hearts and minds of those who have known us in however large or small a way. I feel my heart must look like the Grand Canyon beautiful emptiness shaped by what has passed through it and waiting, hopeful, to hold what comes next. You speak so eloquently of your trials and it reminds me of my own child who is so small and loves so deeply. Blessings and comfort to you, Ben, and your baby. I feel all those you love who have gone will show up to you in your daughter in special secret ways. Seeing the old and beloved in the new is a great gift of the universe.
Alice, thank you for this piece. You have a beautiful soul and a lovely way with words! God bless you and Ben as you’re on the edge of yet a new beginning.
Alice, thank you for this piece. You have a beautiful soul and a lovely way with words! God bless you and Ben as you’re on the edge of yet a new beginning.
Alice, thank you for this piece. You have a beautiful soul and a lovely way with words! God bless you and Ben as you’re on the edge of yet a new beginning.
I’m going to need to read this over and over. I have a huge fear of the “goodbyes.” My mom died when I was young…my grandparent, too. My precious dogs and cats. Now I’m watching my dad age. I often turn to my husband and want to grip onto him so tightly that neither of us can breathe. I’m going to read this entry again and again. I’m so busy holding on that I’m not sure that I’ve been living.
Beautifully written. Thank you for this gentle nudge in a better direction, just when I need it most.
That was beautiful, touched my heart and made me cry😌