Finding Solace
There are moments where I sit down and remember the good times. You know, the good times of childhood innocence that we, as adults, constantly look back upon.
The same memories where you wrapped your arm around your friend and said, “we are going to remember this for the rest of our lives.” I believe that is where some of my best memories came from. Whether it be from the recent days of my undergrad or the depths of my childhood, I constantly drawback on those memories.
Personally, I like to draw back on those memories mainly because it helps me understand the world around me. Currently, we are living in a progressive society, and I refuse to be a person who remains stagnant in it. With that being said, I was taking a walk the other day, and a few things came to mind.
The same memories where you wrapped your arm around your friend and said, “we are going to remember this for the rest of our lives.” I believe that is where some of my best memories came from. Whether it be from the recent days of my undergrad or the depths of my childhood, I constantly drawback on those memories.
Personally, I like to draw back on those memories mainly because it helps me understand the world around me. Currently, we are living in a progressive society, and I refuse to be a person who remains stagnant in it. With that being said, I was taking a walk the other day, and a few things came to mind.
1. I never learned how to grieve.
2. I never learned how depression works and how to deal with it.
2. I never learned how depression works and how to deal with it.
Like many people, I have dealt with a great deal of sadness in my life, but not once did I learn how to overcome it. For years, it has been a giant hurdle in my life, and I was leaping over them with bruised knees. That is not to say, I haven’t had a great deal of happiness throughout those years but more so that I had to surf the wave of depression to do so.
Depression works in waves that crash into you at the most inconvenient times. It’s like coming up for air, and as soon as you part your lips to breathe, you get hit by a wave that submerges you underwater. If you never had that feeling before, it’s as if your chest is burning and craving for oxygen but, your brain reminds your body to hold on for just a bit longer. A scary sensation, nonetheless.
I remember being around the age of 12, when my best friend, Amrit, expressed a new curiosity towards our friend group. It was the parking lot around the corner from where we lived, and it was full of moving trucks as well as stray cats. On the side of it were several buildings that led to the main street.
One summer night, Charlie, Nyell, Amrit, and I all ran over to the large parking lot and climbed on top of the trucks. Curiosity began to run its course as we continued to jump on top of two more following that one. We were stuck on the hood of the last truck that was parked before the gap that led to the building. Amrit, who was the stuntman of the group, leaped forward onto the lower end of the building. Charlie, Nyell, and I followed.
As we got on the lower base of the building, we navigated through unkempt tree branches and found ourselves climbing once more to the top level. Graffiti was spray-painted on the red brick walls that were next to us as well as a few balled up brown paper bags that lay on the floor next to the shattered pieces of glass.
The air smelled of malt liquor, but that wasn’t the intoxicating smell that crept its way into our nostrils. It was the smell of the many orders of chicken and broccoli alongside the French fries that were escaping the doors of the Chinese food restaurant.
I remember we carefully navigated closer to the edge of the building. As our preteen fingers graced the dusty top of the corner of the building, we peeked our heads over. One by one, until eventually we were all overlooking the main street of our neighborhood.
The cars zooming by, the buses that passed along, and the alcoholics that sat outside the Chinese food restaurant either leaning on the hood of a car or across the street by the daycare.
Together, we all high-fived one another as we found a new hang out spot but, me, I remember seeing how close the moon was. It was as if we could extend our arms and grab it. This was a particular spot for sure.
Depression works in waves that crash into you at the most inconvenient times. It’s like coming up for air, and as soon as you part your lips to breathe, you get hit by a wave that submerges you underwater. If you never had that feeling before, it’s as if your chest is burning and craving for oxygen but, your brain reminds your body to hold on for just a bit longer. A scary sensation, nonetheless.
I remember being around the age of 12, when my best friend, Amrit, expressed a new curiosity towards our friend group. It was the parking lot around the corner from where we lived, and it was full of moving trucks as well as stray cats. On the side of it were several buildings that led to the main street.
One summer night, Charlie, Nyell, Amrit, and I all ran over to the large parking lot and climbed on top of the trucks. Curiosity began to run its course as we continued to jump on top of two more following that one. We were stuck on the hood of the last truck that was parked before the gap that led to the building. Amrit, who was the stuntman of the group, leaped forward onto the lower end of the building. Charlie, Nyell, and I followed.
As we got on the lower base of the building, we navigated through unkempt tree branches and found ourselves climbing once more to the top level. Graffiti was spray-painted on the red brick walls that were next to us as well as a few balled up brown paper bags that lay on the floor next to the shattered pieces of glass.
The air smelled of malt liquor, but that wasn’t the intoxicating smell that crept its way into our nostrils. It was the smell of the many orders of chicken and broccoli alongside the French fries that were escaping the doors of the Chinese food restaurant.
I remember we carefully navigated closer to the edge of the building. As our preteen fingers graced the dusty top of the corner of the building, we peeked our heads over. One by one, until eventually we were all overlooking the main street of our neighborhood.
The cars zooming by, the buses that passed along, and the alcoholics that sat outside the Chinese food restaurant either leaning on the hood of a car or across the street by the daycare.
Together, we all high-fived one another as we found a new hang out spot but, me, I remember seeing how close the moon was. It was as if we could extend our arms and grab it. This was a particular spot for sure.
June 30th, 2018
I revisited that spot when one of my closest friends, Fuquan Ford, passed away. I waited until the midnight hour for the moon to hover above all beings who roam throughout. Carefully, I sat there and observed it as it escaped the last cloud that it wore like a skirt. I sat there with tears in my eyes while plagued with the thoughts of him no longer roaming the earth.
Forty maybe forty-five minutes have passed by and I am still sitting in the same spot crying. Tears flooded my face as my sanity escaped the resorts that were my mind. I couldn’t find light in this situation nor could I get it from the moon that hovered above my head. This was the start of the planet not offering solace at night.
I wanted to run. Away from here, from myself, from the sorrow, and from the moon. Like the depression that took complete control over my body, the planet was here to stay. No matter where I ran, it followed me. Visions of my twelve-year-old self came back to revisit me. I watched the little boy who once extended his arm to the moon reappeared.
He waved his small hand at me as I watched him try to capture the moon in his little hands. To no surprise, I did the same. Only this time to cover it, shielding its light from me. I wasn’t ready for my soul to rise above the ground and into the sky.
An hour escaped from my time, and I calmly climbed down from the top of the Chinese food store building and dusted my hands off. I walked around the corner towards the Catholic church where I used to go to as a child with my grandmother, and I sat down on the curb that overlooked the small statue of the Virgin Mary. It was the only form of light that reached me that night.
I picked myself up from the sidewalk and walked inside of Christ The King Catholic Church. Walking down the stairs, I dipped my index finger in the 3-inch water that pooled in the fountain. Slowly, I tapped my finger once on my forehead, then to my chest, once on my right shoulder, and finally once on my left shoulder.
“I come to you, Heavenly Father, as a child who is lost. One who is lost in this world you have created. I am surrounded by the negativity that roams around my head, I am having trouble knowing whether I caused it all. Please, help me find comfort for I am lost,” I said.
Forty maybe forty-five minutes have passed by and I am still sitting in the same spot crying. Tears flooded my face as my sanity escaped the resorts that were my mind. I couldn’t find light in this situation nor could I get it from the moon that hovered above my head. This was the start of the planet not offering solace at night.
I wanted to run. Away from here, from myself, from the sorrow, and from the moon. Like the depression that took complete control over my body, the planet was here to stay. No matter where I ran, it followed me. Visions of my twelve-year-old self came back to revisit me. I watched the little boy who once extended his arm to the moon reappeared.
He waved his small hand at me as I watched him try to capture the moon in his little hands. To no surprise, I did the same. Only this time to cover it, shielding its light from me. I wasn’t ready for my soul to rise above the ground and into the sky.
An hour escaped from my time, and I calmly climbed down from the top of the Chinese food store building and dusted my hands off. I walked around the corner towards the Catholic church where I used to go to as a child with my grandmother, and I sat down on the curb that overlooked the small statue of the Virgin Mary. It was the only form of light that reached me that night.
I picked myself up from the sidewalk and walked inside of Christ The King Catholic Church. Walking down the stairs, I dipped my index finger in the 3-inch water that pooled in the fountain. Slowly, I tapped my finger once on my forehead, then to my chest, once on my right shoulder, and finally once on my left shoulder.
“I come to you, Heavenly Father, as a child who is lost. One who is lost in this world you have created. I am surrounded by the negativity that roams around my head, I am having trouble knowing whether I caused it all. Please, help me find comfort for I am lost,” I said.
Fifteen days have passed.
I was no longer in New York City. I was in the mountains of Pennsylvania for 2 weeks at a creative writing nonprofit job where I served as a camp counselor. Although this was my second year at the camp, I looked at it as a way for me to run away from how I was feeling. Surely enough, I was disconnected from my cell phone, social media, and people trying to get ahold of me asking me questions that were concerning Fuquan’s death. This was heaven, or at least I thought.
I had trouble sleeping at night, insomnia began to run its course throughout my body. So that caused me to sit outside of the cabin on the bench. Most nights it was pitch black as well as rainy. Almost every night, I sat outside for at least 2 hours once the group of 11-year-old boys I was the counselor for fell asleep. When I sat on the porch each night, I sat in silence. No headphones, no phone, no music, nothing. Just me and my thoughts.
I spent the majority of the night looking up at the night sky’s tinted window. It was where I saw the stars that illuminated the night sky, and it allowed me to utilize the moon to its full ability.
On one specific night, I remember burying my face in my hands. Feeling the river of tears create a pool in my palms, submerging the lifelines that were carved in the shallow crevices of my palm; I thought myself freefalling into the abyss of depression.
As each tear fell, they traced the path of the ones that came before it. With my lips quivering and nose running, I tried to fight back the remaining tears. Each tear reminded me of memories that Fu and I created. The good, the bad, the hilarious, and the serious.
I had trouble sleeping at night, insomnia began to run its course throughout my body. So that caused me to sit outside of the cabin on the bench. Most nights it was pitch black as well as rainy. Almost every night, I sat outside for at least 2 hours once the group of 11-year-old boys I was the counselor for fell asleep. When I sat on the porch each night, I sat in silence. No headphones, no phone, no music, nothing. Just me and my thoughts.
I spent the majority of the night looking up at the night sky’s tinted window. It was where I saw the stars that illuminated the night sky, and it allowed me to utilize the moon to its full ability.
On one specific night, I remember burying my face in my hands. Feeling the river of tears create a pool in my palms, submerging the lifelines that were carved in the shallow crevices of my palm; I thought myself freefalling into the abyss of depression.
As each tear fell, they traced the path of the ones that came before it. With my lips quivering and nose running, I tried to fight back the remaining tears. Each tear reminded me of memories that Fu and I created. The good, the bad, the hilarious, and the serious.
I was at war with myself.
My mind continued to play the vinyl of memories that we contributed to. Reminding me of the brotherly bond we created as well as the lessons we learned from one another. This was what caused the tears. I missed him. I just wanted a chance to speak with him one last time, to tell him how much I miss and love him.
Digging my fingernails deep into the center of my thigh, I stopped crying momentarily. The cold air whipped across my face and brushed the leaves on the trees. Picking my head up from my hands, I looked up at the night sky’s tinted window once again.
“I miss you, Fu!” I stuttered.
With my tear-filled hands, I interlocked my fingers and continued to stare at the celestial object that owned the night sky.
“I’m never going to forget you. Continue to look down on all of us. I miss you, man,” I continued.
To no surprise, the tears came back. The only difference was, this time, they were here to stay. I couldn’t hold them nor could I trick my mind into putting these tears towards a different scenario. Ever since Fu passed away, I tried to overwork myself to the point where my energy would be invested into work and not at what was truly bothering me. It got to the point that whenever I got home from work, I would just go to sleep. I ran away from my problems, but little did I know, the concept of grief was a marathon, not a race.
Before this moment, I didn’t know how the grieving stage worked. I thought that I could trick my mind into believing if I were busy enough, then it would escape my mind that physical presence no longer roamed the earth. I sprinted when I was supposed to walk. Eventually, I made myself dizzy, and that is when the feeling caught up with me.
I continued to cry on the bench outside of the cabin. As my lips quivered, my chest jerked forward. The countless tears that resided in my beard flew off as did the droplets of snot that were hanging from my nostrils. I watched the moon illuminating the earth, giving it all my undivided attention, I wished that I received some form of light. Maybe that would provide solace.
Depression began to run its course at an expedited pace. Falling more in-depth into the sea of melancholy, I continued to get hit by the waves the moon controlled. There was no lighthouse or bobbies in sight, just open water. I was in the middle of the sea, getting hit by the waves my brain controlled.
I sat down on the bench outside of the cabin again. This time, I let my tears fall with absolutely no intention of holding them back. As the wind blew once more, it dried the path my tears were on.
“Can you see me crying?” I mumbled.
My eyes escaped the ground and navigated towards the moon. That was where I saw it finally flee the last cloud in the night sky that it wore like a skirt. Luminating the tiny wet spots that soaked the wooden panels underneath my feet, I felt its light shine on me.
Immediately, I felt a cloak drape around my shoulders as a friend’s arm would.
My worries disappeared instantly, I was comforted by Fuquan’s hand on my shoulder. He hugged me tightly while pulling me into his chest. I felt his thumb trace along the top of my cheek, the moist sensation that once belonged to my face vanished. Together we sat there, my face still buried in my hands and him pulling me into his chest.
Hesitantly, I raised my head only to see his face. The tears vanished. The depression paused. It was as if everything I worried about evaporated into thin air.
“How do I get through this rut of depression? It’s hard. When you passed away, I tried so hard to neglect my feelings on the situation. I didn’t want it to be true—each day I prayed to God. Even on the days where I had rum stained on my tongue while sitting down on the curb observing the statue of the Virgin Mary. Man, God really does take away the best people at such an early age,” I said.
His eyes observed me, and he let out the signature giggle that people remember most about him. The Cheshire cat smile he possessed along with his marijuana-encrusted fingernails captured me in the feeling of comfort.
Our eyes locked and he dapped me up. As our palms clapped and fingers interlocked, the feeling I desperately craved of wanting to see him was fulfilled.
“For so long, I couldn’t eat, I struggled to breathe, and insomnia began to run its course on me. You have no idea what this means me, bro, you really don’t. This overwhelming feeling of happiness ruling over my body is unmatched,” I continued.
I watched his arm release from around me as he stood up getting ready to ascend back to heaven.
“Find—solace,” Fuquan said in a hazed tone.
Once more our palms clapped, our fingers interlocked, and we tapped each other on the back.
“I’m looking down on you. Stop being so hard on yourself,” Fuquan finally said.
I blinked my eyes and watched him float up to the sky. It only took a couple of seconds before he returned. Only thing I remember happening following that moment was the immediate feeling of disbelief that crawled into my soul.
I’ve seen the path to heaven that he walked up, but I also saw a blinding flash of light that peeked its way into my soul. With a quick bat of an eye, I saw his face once more in the sky. Behind the stars, next to the moon, and above this thing we call earth.
Closing my eyes, I envisioned the sea of melancholy being parted. I received the answers I was looking for as well as obtained the mental comfort. It was as if I were draped with an emotional blanket. One that wasn’t made of tears but one that provided solace for a weary soul.
No longer a castaway of my mind, I was saved by the daunting light the moon provided. The waves stopped crashing into me, for they broke into tiny waves that carried me to shore. Slowly, I rode the waves and allowed each feeling to come to me naturally rather than force it. Ever since that day, I have been finding solace.
Digging my fingernails deep into the center of my thigh, I stopped crying momentarily. The cold air whipped across my face and brushed the leaves on the trees. Picking my head up from my hands, I looked up at the night sky’s tinted window once again.
“I miss you, Fu!” I stuttered.
With my tear-filled hands, I interlocked my fingers and continued to stare at the celestial object that owned the night sky.
“I’m never going to forget you. Continue to look down on all of us. I miss you, man,” I continued.
To no surprise, the tears came back. The only difference was, this time, they were here to stay. I couldn’t hold them nor could I trick my mind into putting these tears towards a different scenario. Ever since Fu passed away, I tried to overwork myself to the point where my energy would be invested into work and not at what was truly bothering me. It got to the point that whenever I got home from work, I would just go to sleep. I ran away from my problems, but little did I know, the concept of grief was a marathon, not a race.
Before this moment, I didn’t know how the grieving stage worked. I thought that I could trick my mind into believing if I were busy enough, then it would escape my mind that physical presence no longer roamed the earth. I sprinted when I was supposed to walk. Eventually, I made myself dizzy, and that is when the feeling caught up with me.
I continued to cry on the bench outside of the cabin. As my lips quivered, my chest jerked forward. The countless tears that resided in my beard flew off as did the droplets of snot that were hanging from my nostrils. I watched the moon illuminating the earth, giving it all my undivided attention, I wished that I received some form of light. Maybe that would provide solace.
Depression began to run its course at an expedited pace. Falling more in-depth into the sea of melancholy, I continued to get hit by the waves the moon controlled. There was no lighthouse or bobbies in sight, just open water. I was in the middle of the sea, getting hit by the waves my brain controlled.
I sat down on the bench outside of the cabin again. This time, I let my tears fall with absolutely no intention of holding them back. As the wind blew once more, it dried the path my tears were on.
“Can you see me crying?” I mumbled.
My eyes escaped the ground and navigated towards the moon. That was where I saw it finally flee the last cloud in the night sky that it wore like a skirt. Luminating the tiny wet spots that soaked the wooden panels underneath my feet, I felt its light shine on me.
Immediately, I felt a cloak drape around my shoulders as a friend’s arm would.
My worries disappeared instantly, I was comforted by Fuquan’s hand on my shoulder. He hugged me tightly while pulling me into his chest. I felt his thumb trace along the top of my cheek, the moist sensation that once belonged to my face vanished. Together we sat there, my face still buried in my hands and him pulling me into his chest.
Hesitantly, I raised my head only to see his face. The tears vanished. The depression paused. It was as if everything I worried about evaporated into thin air.
“How do I get through this rut of depression? It’s hard. When you passed away, I tried so hard to neglect my feelings on the situation. I didn’t want it to be true—each day I prayed to God. Even on the days where I had rum stained on my tongue while sitting down on the curb observing the statue of the Virgin Mary. Man, God really does take away the best people at such an early age,” I said.
His eyes observed me, and he let out the signature giggle that people remember most about him. The Cheshire cat smile he possessed along with his marijuana-encrusted fingernails captured me in the feeling of comfort.
Our eyes locked and he dapped me up. As our palms clapped and fingers interlocked, the feeling I desperately craved of wanting to see him was fulfilled.
“For so long, I couldn’t eat, I struggled to breathe, and insomnia began to run its course on me. You have no idea what this means me, bro, you really don’t. This overwhelming feeling of happiness ruling over my body is unmatched,” I continued.
I watched his arm release from around me as he stood up getting ready to ascend back to heaven.
“Find—solace,” Fuquan said in a hazed tone.
Once more our palms clapped, our fingers interlocked, and we tapped each other on the back.
“I’m looking down on you. Stop being so hard on yourself,” Fuquan finally said.
I blinked my eyes and watched him float up to the sky. It only took a couple of seconds before he returned. Only thing I remember happening following that moment was the immediate feeling of disbelief that crawled into my soul.
I’ve seen the path to heaven that he walked up, but I also saw a blinding flash of light that peeked its way into my soul. With a quick bat of an eye, I saw his face once more in the sky. Behind the stars, next to the moon, and above this thing we call earth.
Closing my eyes, I envisioned the sea of melancholy being parted. I received the answers I was looking for as well as obtained the mental comfort. It was as if I were draped with an emotional blanket. One that wasn’t made of tears but one that provided solace for a weary soul.
No longer a castaway of my mind, I was saved by the daunting light the moon provided. The waves stopped crashing into me, for they broke into tiny waves that carried me to shore. Slowly, I rode the waves and allowed each feeling to come to me naturally rather than force it. Ever since that day, I have been finding solace.
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Dominic Wright is a writer as well as a proud graduate of the English program at Green Mountain College. He lives in Queens, NY, with his family. Dominic is also an advocate for black men seeking mental health treatment and deleting the stigma around it within the black community. During his undergrad, Dominic was an activist for Black Lives Matter, as well as a vocal advocate for men showing emotions. He continues that work today while working as a tutor throughout New York City.
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