There are three words that explain why I am here. They are "Amy Krouse Rosenthal."
Ada tiga kata yang menjelaskan mengapa saya ada di sini, yakni "Amy Krouse Rosenthal."
At the end of Amy's life, hyped up on morphine and home in hospice, the "New York Times" published an article she wrote for the "Modern Love" column on March 3, 2017. It was read worldwide by over five million people. The piece was unbearably sad, ironically funny and brutally honest. While it was certainly about our life together, the focus of the piece was me. It was called, "You May Want to Marry My Husband." It was a creative play on a personal ad for me. Amy quite literally left an empty space for me to fill with another love story.
Di akhir hayat Amy, di bawah pengaruh morfin dan dirawat di rumah, "New York Times" menerbitkan artikel yang ia tulis untuk kolom "Modern Love" edisi 3 Maret 2017. Dibaca lebih dari lima juta orang di seluruh dunia. tulisan itu sedih tak terkira, ironis namun lucu, dan sangat blak-blakan. Meski jelas menceritakan tentang kehidupan kami berdua, fokusnya adalah saya. Judulnya, "Anda Mungkin Mau Menikahi Suamiku." Sebuah iklan diri yang kreatif tentang saya. Amy jelas meninggalkan ruang kosong untuk saya isi dengan kisah cinta yang lain.
Amy was my wife for half my life. She was my partner in raising three wonderful, now grown children, and really, she was my girl, you know? We had so much in common. We loved the same art, the same documentaries, the same music. Music was a huge part of our life together. And we shared the same values. We were in love, and our love grew stronger up until her last day. Amy was a prolific author. In addition to two groundbreaking memoirs, she published over 30 children's books. Posthumously, the book she wrote with our daughter Paris, called "Dear Girl," reached the number one position on the "New York Times" bestseller list. She was a self-described tiny filmmaker. She was 5'1" and her films were not that long.
Amy-lah istri selama separuh hidup saya. Dialah rekan dalam membesarkan tiga anak kami yang kini sudah dewasa, dan dia benar-benar gadis pujaan saya. Kami punya banyak kesamaan. Kami menyukai karya seni, film dokumenter, dan musik yang sama. Musik berperan besar dalam kehidupan kami berdua. Nilai-nilai hidup kami pun sama. Kami saling mencintai, dan cinta kami terus menguat hingga hari kepergiannya. Amy adalah penulis yang produktif. Selain dua memoar yang inventif, dia menerbitkan lebih dari 30 buku anak. Secara anumerta, buku yang ditulisnya bersama anak kami, Paris, berjudul "Dear Girl", mencapai posisi pertama dalam daftar buku terlaris "New York Times". Amy menyebut dirinya sendiri sineas kecil-kecilan. Tinggi badannya 152 cm dan durasi filmnya pun tak lama.
(Laughter)
(Tawa)
Her films exemplified her natural ability to gather people together. She was also a terrific public speaker, talking with children and adults of all ages all over the world.
Film-film Amy mencerminkan kemampuan alaminya untuk menyatukan orang. Ia juga seorang pembicara publik yang luar biasa, berbincang dengan anak-anak hingga orang dewasa di seluruh dunia.
Now, my story of grief is only unique in the sense of it being rather public. However, the grieving process itself was not my story alone. Amy gave me permission to move forward, and I'm so grateful for that. Now, just a little over a year into my new life, I've learned a few things. I'm here to share with you part of the process of moving forward through and with grief. But before I do that, I think it would be important to talk a little bit about the end of life, because it forms how I have been emotionally since then. Death is such a taboo subject, right?
Kini, kisah duka saya menjadi unik hanya karena berkesan terbuka. Namun proses berkabung sendiri bukan cuma pengalaman saya seorang. Amy mengizinkan saya untuk terus hidup, dan saya amat mensyukurinya. Kini, setelah lebih dari setahun menjalani kehidupan baru, saya belajar beberapa hal. Saya akan berbagi sebagian proses melanjutkan hidup melewati dan bersama rasa duka. Tapi sebelumnya, menurut saya penting untuk menyinggung sedikit tentang kematian karena hal itulah yang membentuk kondisi emosi saya. Kematian adalah topik yang tabu, 'kan?
Amy ate her last meal on January 9, 2017. She somehow lived an additional two months without solid food. Her doctors told us we could do hospice at home or in the hospital. They did not tell us that Amy would shrink to half her body weight, that she would never lay with her husband again, and that walking upstairs to our bedroom would soon feel like running a marathon. Home hospice does have an aura of being a beautiful environment to die in. How great that you don't have the sounds of machines beeping and going on and off all the time, no disruptions for mandatory drug administration, home with your family to die.
Amy terakhir makan pada 9 Januari 2017. Entah bagaimana dia bisa bertahan dua bulan tanpa makanan padat. Para dokter memberi tahu bahwa kami bisa merawatnya di rumah atau di rumah sakit. Mereka tak memberi tahu bahwa Amy akan menyusut hingga setengah berat badannya, bahwa dia tak lagi bisa tidur dengan suaminya, dan menaiki tangga menuju kamar kami akan terasa seperti maraton baginya. Perawatan rumah memang terkesan seperti kondisi yang ideal untuk mati. Betapa nyaman jika Anda tak perlu mendengar bunyi mesin menyala dan mati setiap saat, tidak terganggu jadwal rutin pemberian obat, meninggal di rumah dikelilingi keluarga.
We did our best to make those weeks as meaningful as we could. We talked often about death. Everybody knows it's going to happen to them, like, for sure, but being able to talk openly about it was liberating. We talked about subjects like parenting. I asked Amy how I could be the best parent possible to our children in her absence. In those conversations, she gave me confidence by stressing what a great relationship I had with each one of them, and that I can do it. I know there will be many times where I wish she and I can make decisions together. We were always so in sync. May I be so audacious as to suggest that you have these conversations now, when healthy. Please don't wait.
Sebisa mungkin, kami menjadikan minggu-minggu terakhir itu berarti. Kami kerap membicarakan kematian. Semua orang tahu bahwa mereka pasti akan mati, tapi membicarakannya dengan terbuka terasa membebaskan. Kami bicara tentang pengasuhan anak. Saya menanyakan pada Amy, cara terbaik mengasuh anak tanpa kehadirannya. Dalam pembicaraan itu, dia membuat saya percaya diri dengan menekankan kuatnya hubungan saya dan masing-masing anak kami. Dia yakin saya bisa. Saya sadar akan ada banyak waktu ketika saya berharap bisa membuat keputusan bersamanya. Kami selalu selaras. Kalau boleh, saya sarankan Anda membicarakannya sekarang selama masih sehat. Mohon jangan menundanya.
As part of our hospice experience, we organized groups of visitors. How brave of Amy to receive them, even as she began her physical decline. We had a Krouse night, her parents and three siblings. Friends and family were next. Each told beautiful stories of Amy and of us. Amy made an immense impact on her loyal friends.
Sebagai bagian dari perawatan rumah, kami mengatur waktu kunjungan. Amy begitu tegar menerima mereka, bahkan saat fisiknya terus melemah. Ada waktu bagi keluarga Krouse, orangtua dan tiga saudaranya. Kemudian teman dan keluarga lain. Masing-masing bercerita yang baik tentang Amy dan kami. Amy punya dampak besar pada teman-teman terdekatnya.
But home hospice is not so beautiful for the surviving family members. I want to get a little personal here and tell you that to this date, I have memories of those final weeks that haunt me. I remember walking backwards to the bathroom, assisting Amy with each step. I felt so strong. I'm not such a big guy, but my arms looked and felt so healthy compared to Amy's frail body. And that body failed in our house. On March 13 of last year, my wife died of ovarian cancer in our bed. I carried her lifeless body down our stairs, through our dining room and our living room to a waiting gurney to have her body cremated. I will never get that image out of my head. If you know someone who has been through the hospice experience, acknowledge that. Just say you heard this guy Jason talk about how tough it must be to have those memories and that you're there if they ever want to talk about it. They may not want to talk, but it's nice to connect with someone living each day with those lasting images. I know this sounds unbelievable, but I've never been asked that question.
Tapi perawatan rumah tak seindah itu bagi keluarga yang ditinggalkan. Saya akan berbagi hal yang sangat personal bahwa hingga hari ini saya masih dihantui ingatan akan minggu-minggu terakhir itu. Saya ingat berjalan mundur ke kamar mandi, menuntun Amy selangkah demi selangkah. Rasanya, saya begitu kuat. Tubuh saya tak besar, tapi lengan saya terlihat dan terasa lebih bugar daripada tubuh ringkihnya. Dan tubuh itu menyerah di rumah kami. Pada 13 Maret tahun lalu, istri saya direnggut oleh kanker rahim di tempat tidur kami. Saya mengangkat tubuh tak bernyawanya menuruni tangga, melewati ruang makan dan ruang keluarga kami ke brankar yang menunggu untuk membawanya ke krematorium. Bayangan itu tak akan hilang dari kepala. Jika Anda kenal orang yang pernah mengalami perawatan rumah, hormatilah. Bilang saja Anda dengar dari Jason tentang beratnya menghadapi kenangan seperti itu dan Anda siap mendengarkan jika mereka ingin bercerita. Mungkin mereka enggan bercerita, tapi rasanya menenangkan bisa tahu ada yang mengalami hal serupa. Ini sulit dipercaya, tapi belum ada yang bilang begitu pada saya.
Amy's essay caused me to experience grief in a public way. Many of the readers who reached out to me wrote beautiful words of reflection. The scope of Amy's impact was deeper and richer than even us and her family knew. Some of the responses I received helped me with the intense grieving process because of their humor, like this email I received from a woman reader who read the article, declaring, "I will marry you when you are ready --
Artikel Amy membuat saya mengalami duka secara terbuka. Banyak pembaca yang menghubungi saya menuliskan kata-kata renungan yang indah. Dampak yang Amy buat menjangkau jauh lebih dalam, lebih kaya dari yang kami dan keluarganya ketahui. Sebagian respons itu membantu saya melewati proses berkabung yang hebat karena rasa humor mereka. Seperti surel ini, yang saya terima dari seorang pembaca wanita. Katanya, "Aku akan menikahimu saat kau siap --
(Laughter)
(Tawa)
"provided you permanently stop drinking. No other conditions. I promise to outlive you. Thank you very much."
asal kau berhenti minum alkohol selamanya. Tak ada syarat lain. Aku janji akan mati setelah kau. Terima kasih banyak."
Now, I do like a good tequila, but that really is not my issue. Yet how could I say no to that proposal?
Nah, saya masih suka tequila, tapi bukan itu masalahnya. Tetap saja, bagaimana bisa saya menolaknya?
(Laughter)
(Tawa)
I laughed through the tears when I read this note from a family friend: "I remember Shabbat dinners at your home and Amy teaching me how to make cornbread croutons. Only Amy could find creativity in croutons."
Saya tertawa sambil menangis saat membaca pesan dari seorang kerabat: "Aku ingat saat makan malam Sabat di rumahmu dan Amy mengajariku membuat roti kering dari kue jagung. Cuma Amy yang bisa sekreatif itu."
(Laughter)
(Tawa)
On July 27, just a few months after Amy's death, my dad died of complications related to a decades-long battle with Parkinson's disease. I had to wonder: How much can the human condition handle? What makes us capable of dealing with this intense loss and yet carry on? Was this a test? Why my family and my amazing children? Looking for answers, I regret to say, is a lifelong mission, but the key to my being able to persevere is Amy's expressed and very public edict that I must go on. Throughout this year, I have done just that. I have attempted to step out and seek the joy and the beauty that I know this life is capable of providing. But here's the reality: those family gatherings, attending weddings and events honoring Amy, as loving as they are, have all been very difficult to endure. People say I'm amazing. "How do you handle yourself that way during those times?" They say, "You do it with such grace." Well, guess what? I really am sad a lot of the time. I often feel like I'm kind of a mess, and I know these feelings apply to other surviving spouses, children, parents and other family members.
Pada 27 Juli, beberapa bulan setelah kepergian Amy, ayah saya meninggal karena komplikasi penyakit Parkinson yang diidapnya berpuluh-puluh tahun. Saya bertanya-tanya: Seberapa jauh manusia bisa menanggung ini? Apa yang membuat kita kuat menghadapi rasa kehilangan yang hebat, namun tetap bisa bertahan? Apakah ini ujian? Mengapa keluarga dan anak-anak saya? Mencari jawaban itu, sayangnya, adalah misi seumur hidup. Namun kunci kegigihan saya adalah deklarasi Amy yang begitu terbuka dan jelas bahwa saya harus melanjutkan hidup. Sepanjang tahun ini, hanya itu yang saya lakukan. Saya berusaha keluar dan mencari keceriaan dan keindahan yang saya tahu selalu bisa disediakan oleh hidup. Namun ini kenyataannya: pertemuan keluarga, hadir di acara pernikahan dan peringatan untuk Amy, selembut apa pun kasih mereka, tetaplah sangat sulit untuk dijalani. Orang bilang saya hebat, "Bagaimana kau bisa membawa diri melewati masa-masa itu?" Kata mereka, "Kau menjalaninya dengan tenang." Yah, coba tebak? Saya merasa amat sedih setiap waktu. Saya sering merasa berantakan, dan saya tahu perasaan ini juga terjadi kepada pasangan, anak, orangtua, dan keluarga yang ditinggalkan.
In Japanese Zen, there is a term "Shoji," which translates as "birth death." There is no separation between life and death other than a thin line that connects the two. Birth, or the joyous, wonderful, vital parts of life, and death, those things we want to get rid of, are said to be faced equally. In this new life that I find myself in, I am doing my best to embrace this concept as I move forward with grieving.
Dalam konsep Zen dari Jepang, ada istilah "Shoji," yang terjemahannya "lahir-mati." Tak ada pemisahan antara lahir dan mati selain garis tipis yang menghubungkannya. Kelahiran, atau bagian hidup yang riang, indah, dan vital, dan kematian, hal-hal yang ingin kita singkirkan, katanya harus dihadapi dengan setara. Dalam hidup baru yang sekarang saya jalani, saya berusaha merangkul konsep itu sebaik mungkin sambil menghadapi duka.
In the early months following Amy's death, though, I was sure that the feeling of despair would be ever-present, that it would be all-consuming. Soon I was fortunate to receive some promising advice. Many members of the losing-a-spouse club reached out to me. One friend in particular who had also lost her life partner kept repeating, "Jason, you will find joy." I didn't even know what she was talking about. How was that possible? But because Amy gave me very public permission to also find happiness, I now have experienced joy from time to time. There it was, dancing the night away at an LCD Soundsystem concert, traveling with my brother and best friend or with a college buddy on a boys' trip to meet a group of great guys I never met before. From observing that my deck had sun beating down on it on a cold day, stepping out in it, laying there, the warmth consuming my body. The joy comes from my three stunning children. There was my son Justin, texting me a picture of himself with an older gentleman with a massive, strong forearm and the caption, "I just met Popeye," with a huge grin on his face.
Toh, pada bulan-bulan awal setelah kematian Amy, saya yakin bahwa perasaan putus asa itu akan selalu hadir, akan sangat menguasai saya. Tak lama, saya beruntung bisa menerima nasihat yang optimistis. Banyak anggota kelab kehilangan pasangan yang menghubungi saya. Seorang teman yang juga pernah kehilangan pasangan berulang kali berkata, "Jason, kau akan menemukan keceriaan." Saya awalnya tak mengerti apa yang ia katakan. Bagaimana bisa? Namun karena secara terbuka Amy telah mengizinkan saya menemukan kebahagiaan, kini saya bisa mengalami sukacita dari waktu ke waktu. Ada di sana, saat berdansa semalaman di konser LCD Soundsystem, melancong dengan saudara dan sahabat, atau teman kuliah saat trip khusus cowok bertemu orang-orang hebat yang baru dikenal. Saat mengamati beranda rumah dilimpahi sinar matahari pada hari yang dingin, melangkah di atasnya, lalu berbaring, membiarkan kehangatan menyelimuti saya. Sukacita yang datang dari tiga anak saya yang menakjubkan. Anak laki-laki saya, Justin, mengirimkan fotonya dengan seorang pria tua berlengan besar dan kekar, dan menulis pesan, "Aku ketemu Popeye," sambil menyeringai lebar.
(Laughter)
(Tawa)
There was his brother Miles, walking to the train for his first day of work after graduating college, who stopped and looked back at me and asked, "What am I forgetting?" I assured him right away, "You are 100 percent ready. You got this." And my daughter Paris, walking together through Battersea Park in London, the leaves piled high, the sun glistening in the early morning on our way to yoga.
Kakak laki-lakinya, Miles, saat memasuki kereta pada hari pertama kerja setelah menamatkan kuliah, berhenti, berbalik ke saya seraya bertanya, "Apa ada yang tertinggal?" Saya langsung meyakinkannya, "Kau sudah 100% siap. Kau pasti bisa." Dan anak perempuan saya, Paris, berjalan bersama saya melalui Battersea Park di London, dedaunan bertumpuk tinggi, matahari berkilauan di pagi hari saat kami menuju tempat yoga.
I would add that beauty is also there to discover, and I mean beauty of the wabi-sabi variety but beauty nonetheless. On the one hand, when I see something in this category, I want to say, "Amy, did you see that? Did you hear that? It's too beautiful for you not to share with me." On the other hand, I now experience these moments in an entirely new way. There was the beauty I found in music, like the moment in the newest Manchester Orchestra album, when the song "The Alien" seamlessly transitions into "The Sunshine," or the haunting beauty of Luke Sital-Singh's "Killing Me," whose chorus reads, "And it's killing me that you're not here with me. I'm living happily, but I'm feeling guilty." There is beauty in the simple moments that life has to offer, a way of seeing that world that was so much a part of Amy's DNA, like on my morning commute, looking at the sun reflecting off of Lake Michigan, or stopping and truly seeing how the light shines at different times of the day in the house we built together; even after a Chicago storm, noticing the fresh buildup of snow throughout the neighborhood; or peeking into my daughter's room as she's practicing the bass guitar.
Perlu saya tambahkan bahwa keindahan ada di sana untuk ditemukan. Maksud saya, keindahan berjenis wabi-sabi namun bagaimanapun tetap indah. Pada satu sisi, saat melihat suatu hal seperti ini, saya ingin bilang, "Amy, apa kau lihat juga? Kau dengar? Terlalu cantik untuk tak kaubagi denganku." Pada sisi lain, kini saya mengalami momen-momen ini dengan sama sekali berbeda. Ada keindahan yang saya temukan di musik, seperti saat mendengarkan album terbaru Manchester Orchestra, ketika lagu "The Alien" beralih dengan mulus ke "The Sunshine", atau keindahan yang mengusik dari lagu "Killing Me" oleh Luke Sital-Singh, yang refreinnya berbunyi, "Dan ini membunuhku bahwa kau tak di sini bersamaku. Aku hidup bahagia, namun aku merasa berdosa." Ada keindahan dalam momen sederhana yang dibawa oleh hidup -- cara untuk melihatnya menjadi bagian besar dari DNA Amy -- seperti ketika berangkat di pagi hari, menatap pantulan matahari pada permukaan Danau Michigan, atau berhenti dan seutuhnya memandang bagaimana cahaya bersinar pada bagian hari yang berbeda di dalam rumah yang kami bangun bersama; bahkan setelah badai di Chicago, memperhatikan tumpukan salju yang baru di sepanjang lingkungan rumah; atau mengintip kamar anak perempuan saya saat ia sedang berlatih bas.
Listen, I want to make it clear that I'm a very fortunate person. I have the most amazing family that loves and supports me. I have the resources for personal growth during my time of grief. But whether it's a divorce, losing a job you worked so hard at or having a family member die suddenly or of a slow-moving and painful death, I would like to offer you what I was given: a blank of sheet of paper. What will you do with your intentional empty space, with your fresh start?
Dengarlah, saya ingin memperjelas bahwa saya amat beruntung. Saya punya keluarga yang luar biasa, yang menyayangi dan mendukung saya. Saya punya sumber daya untuk berkembang pada waktu-waktu berduka. Tapi apakah itu perceraian, kehilangan pekerjaan yang Anda perjuangkan, atau anggota keluarga yang meninggal baik dengan tiba-tiba maupun perlahan dan menyakitkan, saya ingin menawarkan Anda anugerah yang saya dapat: secarik kertas kosong. Apa yang akan Anda perbuat pada ruang kosong milik Anda, dengan awal yang baru?
Thank you.
Terima kasih.
(Applause)
(Tepuk tangan)