Light in the Darkness

Photographers live in the light.  We play with light.  We fight the light.  Sometimes, we shine the light...on things which are hard to talk about...like suicide.

The news of Anthony Bourdain's suicide hit me hard.  The host of CNN's enormously popular travel and food series, Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown, was a force of nature.  He was someone so authentic, so true to himself, that it is inconceivable that he was living a lie - masking deep depression, and suicidal thoughts.  On the other hand, there was always a fleeting look of sadness, and vulnerability in his eyes.  Then, his eyes would flash, and he'd say something hilarious, sardonic, or profound.

I loved Anthony Bourdain.  So did millions of men and women around the world, who lived vicariously through him, who wanted to be him, who wanted to journey with him, who admired him for his reverence and irreverence, his swaggering confidence and his humility.  He was brilliant, witty, brutally honest, kind, gentle, sensitive, intense, outspoken, passionate, caring, devil may care, and hedonistic.  He was what my friend Julie calls, "a complex carb".

Ironically, like his last television series, Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown, there were parts of him, which were unknown.  Bourdain had his demons.  In an episode, inwhich he returns to his cooking roots in Massachusetts, he revealed that he was a recovering heroin addict, who religiously attended addiction support groups.  He said that it was thinking of his young daughter, that would keep him from going back to drugs.  His drinking was legendary.  In the Russia episode of Parts Unknown he drank shots of vodka for breakfast, lunch, and 16 more shots with dinner. 

Over the years, he made referrences to depression, including the suicidal behaviour which followed his divorce from his first wife - heavy drinking, drugs and dangerous driving.  He spent 250 days a year travelling, which may have taken their toll on his second marriage.  Not long ago, he wrote that an experience in an Argentine airport sent him into a tailspin for days.  The Iceland episode of one of his earlier food and travel series, No Reservations, is entitled,  Hello Darkness, My Old Friend.

We all knew about the history of drug addiction, the drunken days and nights, and his loneliness on the road...but he was okay, right? 

Perhaps Bourdain's death hit me hard, because in many ways, he reminds me of my late husband.  Brande was "an adventurer", who lived life on the edge, and turned his life around in time for me to walk into it.

Brande was his own man.  I could never tell him what to do.  He always lived by his own rules.  He had presence, and could shift the energy in a room.  Like Bourdain, he could talk with anyone about anything.  He was a great storyteller, and an even better listener.  He was a gentleman, and a gentle man.  He was a ferocious adversary, protective of those he loved.  He was also a brilliant, independent thinker.  Perhaps unlike Bourdain, he was not only strong willed, he had a strong will to live.

Anthony Bourdain famously said that you should be able to cook an omelette for your lover the next morning.  My husband was not a morning person.  His cooking was amazing!  Bouilliabaise and Seafood Lasagna were his signature dishes.

Bourdain's partner, Italian actress Asia Argento is a fearless and strong woman.  You may remember her from this year's Cannes Film Festival, where she used her opportunity at the podium to speak out against the man who raped her at Cannes when she was 21 years old:  Harvey Weinstein.  Her powerful speech made headlines the next day.

She is "devasted" by Bourdain's death.  She uses the same words which I have used in speaking about Brande:  "my lover, my rock, my protector".  Even the strongest of women will be shaken to their very core, by the death of a partner or husband.

Brande's death - even though I knew it was coming - brought me to my knees.  For weeks, I could barely breathe.  For the first month, I would hold onto the grab rails in the shower, for fear of fainting.  When the overwhelming grief, fear and anxiety about the future overcame me, I too actually contemplated suicide.  Me.  I held the thought for one day.  It terrified me, that I could even consider the thought.  I did consider it.

I don't pretend to be an expert in mental health, even though I've seen psychosis and schizophrenia up close, and all too personal.  As an act of self preservation, I've stayed far away from it.  So, when those suicidal thoughts crept into my headspace, my self preservation kicked in.

All my life, even in my darkest hours, I've always known that tomorrow will be a brighter day - that things will get better.  Maybe not the same as they were, but better than they are right now.  That's what I told myself, until I believed it!  As much as I detest that insipid Little Orphan Annie song, the truth is, the sun will come up tomorrow - and it's only a day away.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.