38 Comments

I just, don't even have the words for this spectacular piece. It is poignant and perfect and so true and robust that I had to put it down and finish it hours later - it was such a substantial portrait of liffe that it felt like living it with you. I can't tease apart how I felt as both reader and confidant while reading this, so while I want to just keep praising your talent, i also want to just sit next to you and breathe the grief. Well done.

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Wow, Trilety. This comment was so moving because it revealed to me my own motivation for writing this, which I hadn’t fully recognized before--it’s a plea to others to sit with me in my grief. Thank you so much for hearing me. ❤️

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Aw, well from what I see in the comments and interactions in the club, it seems you are sitting on the beach surrounded by a large group of us as we all watch the sea planes. Thanks for sharing - it's heavy stuff and i just love how honestly and artfully you expressed it.

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“What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now forever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind.”

- Intimations of Immortality, by William Wordsworth

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Somehow I’m just seeing this comment, but the timing is perfect. It really resonates with me in this moment. Thanks for sharing it, Mikey.

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This is so powerful and I appreciate the courage to bleed into your writing this way.

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Thank you so much, Clint. It was difficult but necessary.

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Love, love, love this essay.

My mother couldn't scuba dive because she has claustrophobia, and I've never tried but always been curious. But a lot of the things you describe are things I hate struggling against: managing water, steamy glasses, etc. I think I could do okay but if I panicked then I don't think anything would be okay at all -- it's sort of a zero to hundred thing.

PTSD and grief are also a through-line in this conversation but I'll leave it at that....

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I hear you--I remember having a conversation with my husband where said something along the lines of, “remember that if something went wrong down there and you literally had zero air, in the worst case you could get back to the surface in 30 seconds.” And he’s right, but no way would I be calm and clear-headed enough to save myself in that situation. Diving is a mental challenge at least as much as a physical one, and not everyone is up to it (which is totally okay!).

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And thank you so much for the kind words!

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Extraordinary piece, Sam. You are not just writing ABOUT grief, you are boldly writing OUT the grief directly from your soul and we are experiencing it with you as we read. In sharing the details of the death of your beloved Father and the aftermath, you’ve tapped into the universal -- the devastating sorrow of loss. Thank you for writing this.

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Thank you so much, Jolene ❤️ you are so right that this is a slice of something universal--everyone experiences grief and loss, yet we as a society don’t talk about it very openly, so we all end up feeling alone. It’s part of what motivated me to write this! It’s hard to talk about these things out in the open, but I think it’s even harder when we don’t talk about them.

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Completely agree, Sam. Thank you for writing about it.

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"By staying on dry land, I could choose to bring better memories of him to the surface."

Damn... What a precious insight to have... Thank you for sharing this, Sam...

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Thank you for reading, Lyle! That quote (and the piece overall) touches on an idea I mull over a lot--how we as humans manage our consciousness so that we can carry on when confronted with tragedy. That is probably an entire separate essay.

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Very beautiful words. I'm glad that you were able to see that it was just one hard moment in a lifetime of wonderful ones.

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Thank you 😊 we have to hold tight to the good moments in this life.

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All the while you were describing your preparation for the dive in the Maldives, I was saying out loud to myself "Don't do it!" I was so relieved when you backed out. Great piece of writing.

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Thank you so much for reading, Ehud!

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Read this with tears in my eyes. I lost my father when his cancer spread to his brain and can relate to so much of what you share here.

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Oh Kim--I am so sorry for your loss. Brain cancer is not an easy thing to witness. Sending you love and light. ❤️

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Oh gosh, Sam. You'd linked to this post from your new year's one, and I came straight over to read it. Powerful, heartbreaking, brutal and goosepimpling; beautifully, beautifully written; awesome.

I'm so very sorry for your loss.

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❤️❤️ thank you for reading, Rebecca. I am so glad it spoke to you.

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Sam, this is brilliant and riveting. Thank you so much for sharing your heart with us and for letting us in on your journey. Your writing is so raw and real. It hits right to the heart, in the best way. It was nourishing for me to read and witness. <3

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Thank you, Lisa ❤️ it feels good to be able to talk about the things that we are so often afraid to touch in polite society--but I think you understand that well. I would love to connect again soon!

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Yes, absolutely! & me too!

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What a wonderful gift you gave your father! That to me is the most beautiful part of this story. Being there for him -- with him -- at the end of his life is so hard but you did what you were supposed to do.

Scuba diving. That is not something you have to do! Thank goodness. 💕😊

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This is such a sweet comment, Lisa, and you’re absolutely right--being with my dad was the hardest, best, and most necessary thing I’ve ever done. Scuba diving, on the other hand...glad to be able to check it off the bucket list and say “never again”! 😂❤️

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Beautiful and touching, perfectly written! Thanks for this piece

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Thank you, Vanya. ❤️

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I know this (very moving) article isn't about scuba diving, but can't resist mentioning that I had my own scuba-diving epiphany on the Red Sea outside Eilat a few years ago. It's a crazy sensation, thinking you're about to die like that, and then very liberating when you finally rip off the wet suit for good and accept your future as a land animal. My rational mind kept repeating how embarrassing it would be to go like that in an utterly pointless exercise that did no good for anyone (if you want pretty fish, buy a screen saver). I kept thrashing as my guide pulled me in by the collar, until he finally let go, and it turned out we were in three feet of water, surrounded by children.

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Yes! You get me! I had to laugh at “if you want pretty fish, buy a screensaver”—I agree 100 percent. All the diving nuts I know are mostly in it because they are obsessive about spotting different types of fish. Don’t get me wrong, the marine life in the Red Sea is awesome, but diving goes against every self-preservation instinct I have, and in my humble opinion, the fish just aren’t worth it!

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Sam, this was such a moving piece. Thanks for having the guts to share this with us. I love the picture of you with the sea plane -- it celebrates the triumph of finding those small moments of peace.

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🤗 thank you so much, Victoria. Hope to see you on the call Saturday ❤️

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I loved this essay and the decision you made. I’m sorry what you and your dad went through. I’m glad he’s still with you on the shore.

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❤️ Thank you, Anne. He was such a special person.

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