I feel like I should have a sign that I wear everywhere that says: “My best friend fell into the Mississippi River last week. Please don’t expect me to be normal right now.”
I don’t normally stare blankly off into space. I don’t normally burst into tears at random. I don’t normally take my daughter to the police station at 9 on a Saturday night. I don’t normally let her leave the house in one of my T-shirts with unbrushed hair. I don’t normally let her disassemble the toy aisle of Walgreen’s while I talk to reporters on my cell phone. I don’t normally stop at green lights, blinking with surprise when they turn yellow and I realize what I’ve done.
I’d forgotten how all-consuming grief can be. I’ve done this before; I should know how it goes and that it will get better. But it’s hard to believe that now. I had a horrible bout of food poisoning last year, and at one point, sprawled on the bathroom floor, my head resting on the bathmat, I told myself: “This isn’t going to last forever. You will feel better. You will eat again.” That’s kind of how I feel right now. I know it’s going to get better, but right now, emotionally, I’m lying on the bathroom floor.
I don’t have much more to say right now, but I wanted to get the word out about three things.
1. There will be a second-line for Jim this Sunday at 2 p.m. from Mimi’s in the Marigny to the Country Club on Louisa Street. Hot 8 Brass Band will be playing. The weather should be nice, and all of his friends are welcome.
2. Several people have reached out to me to ask how they can help. If you feel moved to do so, you can donate to a PayPal fund that has been set up for Jim’s 7-year-old daughter here.
3. Texas EquuSearch is an amazing organization. Please find out more about them and the incredible work they do, and if you can donate, please do. Several media outlets reported that EquuSearch was hired by Jim’s family; that is simply not true. They are an all-volunteer nonprofit agency, and everyone involved with them is a true hero.