Black Magic

Dear Rachel,

Psychologists talk about “magical thinking,” the idea that one can believe in the manifestly untrue, or that one can invest in certain symbols magical powers. In children, it’s magical thinking that allows them simultaneously to believe in things they know intellectually to be false, but emotionally wish to be true.

I’d run into the term shortly after your death, while speaking to a social worker about Shaylyn. She pointed out that Shaylyn, at three years of age, is perfectly capable of understanding the concept of death; she can—and does—know that her mommy is dead, that you’re gone, and gone forever. At the same time, she’s young enough to engage in magical thinking: The understanding that Mommy is dead has absolutely no bearing on the fact that Shaylyn may still expect you to walk through the door at any moment.

But it’s not only young children who engage in such thinking. I know very well that you’re dead; I attended your funeral, I cried nonstop for weeks, I have your ashes in a box. (They’re all I have left of you, and I can’t for the life of me bring myself to sprinkle them in a forest or on a beach, as was my original intent.) In spite of this knowledge, this absolute certainty that you’re gone forever, I still catch myself expecting you to call, to send me one of your chatty emails, to walk through the door. I still find myself thinking, when I run across an interesting fact or a cool gadget, “Oh, I’ll hafta call Rachel about that! She’ll love to hear about it.” I still see you on the street, or in a shop window, or in the car that pulls up next to me.

I still feel you in my life and it hurts so very much to realize that the feeling is a lie.

Love,

Dad