Every week, New York City’s own party messiah takes your life questions and sets you safely down the right path to a solution in his new weekly advice column in The Village Voice. Read the latest edition of Ask Andrew W.K. below or by clicking HERE.
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Dear Andrew W.K.,
My fiance died very suddenly on the night of June 17. He was only 24-years-old. One moment he was OK, then the next moment he collapsed. An hour later, he was dead. I still don’t know why, but they think it was a blood clot.
He was my strength and my happiness. He was why I got up and faced every day. Now I feel like life is just something I have to endure until I can see him again. I don’t necessarily want to die. I just want the pain and waiting to be over so I can see him again. I want to be wherever he is. I miss him so much.
Now he’s gone and I’m alone. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to. I’m lost. How do I get through this?
Words cannot express the depth of my sympathy for you. No extension of my own deepest pain can come close to resembling what I imagine you’re feeling. And yet, vast waves of empathy are pulling me and many others reading this towards you right now. It’s something that can be felt and understood only on a level beyond language or emotion, a level where everything other than pure human compassion and love is disregarded in favor of a fellow human in need. I cannot explain it; I can only tell you that I’m thinking about you and sending you all the strength and power I can summon, right as I type these words. And so are many others reading this that you’ll probably never meet. But we are all connected in situations like this — and even though that connection is invisible, it is real.
When someone close to you dies mysteriously and unexpectedly, everything is changed, everything is altered, everything is broken and then put back together again incorrectly. There is suddenly a different tone to the air, a different texture to the way things look and feel, a new and indescribably painful transformation of how it feels to exist without that other person’s presence.
But when your soulmate dies — especially without warning — there is a total and complete shattering of the very foundations of life. Nothing feels as though it can be reassembled. Nothing appears to add up or fit together anymore. Everything is skewed and distorted and somehow bound to the ever present wrongness of them being gone. This level of pain and dismay is only intensified when your soulmate is as young as Chris was. Everything about what made life work was undone in a single day. But you can’t blame yourself; you did not end Chris’s life. In a way, his death ended yours. Your life as you knew it ended when his did. Now you have a choice. And it is a beautiful, frightening, and challenging choice: The choice to live again.