Which is worse… speaking or dying?
One might think that something seemingly simple, like, asking for help would be less scary than deciding to die, but disturbing trends tell a different story. As does debut memoirist Charlotte Maya. Her new book, Sushi Tuesdays is about her husband Sam Maya who died by suicide. This book shows just how beautiful a devastating story can be. The opening takes us from a soccer game with their two sons, ages six and eight, to their front doorstep where she learns from two police and a priest that Sam jumped off a parking structure across from his office building. Charlotte is left to face that implosion with her boys, her community, and within herself. Amidst this devastation her thinking translates as clearly as her crystalline prose. She names it directly with her sons in a heartbreaking and striking scene. She holds us too, right in the frame with her. I wish for this kind of poise in this kind of situation. Clear, kind, direct.
I wondered about the title of this book. Clearly a title including the word suicide would be a challenging sell, but my first thought was, is this a foodie book? No. But it highlights one of her rituals that help to carry her through dark, slow hours, days, and weeks… She develops a ritual of self-care. Therapy. Yoga. Running. And the occasional table for one at her favorite sushi restaurant. All of these things, in addition to an unexpected groundswell of community support, help contain her, and her family.
Another ritual she had been partaking in each day, even before Sam’s death, was filling a bowl with water each morning envisioning it as the container for all that would come each day, the good and the bad, then, emptying it down the drain each night to let it all go (her children come up with a particularly charming description for this that you must discover when you read). We see these small but meaningful actions as rivets that hold her together through unimaginably difficult days. The difficulties evolve. The grief evolves. The questions morph and change—Charlotte’s most steadfast action is to continue meeting it all, as it is, in each moment.
This book is a gift Charlotte has shared with anyone who has ever felt alone in a most solitary corner of heartbreak. She shines a light on the pain of feeling alone with no answers in the complex quandary of life circumstances. We do not need to suffer alone. Asking for help can feel futile, perhaps, as well as unthinkably dismaying. But anxiety and depression are illnesses. In another scene, Charlotte argues to a cousin, for cancer we have chemo and radiation, for heart disease we have bypass surgery and medication, for Sam, and for those of us struggling through facing each day—talking about it, asking for help are the first steps to sidestepping mere minutes when words seem more daunting than a deadly alternative.
Her words are a testament to the power words can wield for all of us. To use them clearly, kindly, directly. Even the ugly, painful, messy parts. Contain it all, then let it go.
Listen to Charlotte Maya read from Sushi Tuesdays on the Daring to Tell podcast with Michelle Redo.