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My Life Closed Twice: Surviving a Double Loss
My Life Closed Twice is a non-fiction work of great depth and emotion chronicling the life of one woman following the deaths of her husband and son within 24 hours of each other. Told with hope and humor, this inspirational story says something about how an ordinary person survives extraordinary tragedy-without drugs, psychiatry, or a nervous breakdown. Interweaving episodes from her past, author Sandra Klamkin Schocket speaks to readers who must build new lives, not just in response to death, but after divorce, illness, or loss of job or home.
256 pages, Paperback
First published October 28, 2004
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
August 6, 2018
Concerns her experience surviving extreme tragedy -- 1994 death of her husband Jay Schocket at 59, followed the next day by sudden death of her son Barry Schocket at 30. I gather Barry had had a previously undiagnosed condition of cardiomyopathy but showed no overt signs of any health problems before dying.
I never met Jay, but I knew Barry for a few years when he was a clinical psychology doctoral student at American University, where I teach. Nobody expects any healthy 30-year old to die, but it was somehow extra-shocking with Barry, as he was a strong, tough, athletic guy. He's frozen in my mind's eye as a young man, and it was a jolt to realize in reading his Mom's memoir of loss that Barry was only 3 years younger than I am. I guess that means he'd be in his "early middle years" now.
The book describes a ceremony in which a tree was planted in Barry's memory on our campus, concluding "The tree stands in a busy courtyard where students scurry to and from class. Those who are there now and those to come will never know him, but I hope they pause to read his name."
I did exactly that this morning and now will donate my copy of the book to the Barry Schocket Memorial Library in our grad student lounge. It was great to get to learn more about his and his brother Andy's childhood, not to mention their parents' rich life experiences. It's not a typical didactic self-help book, but she does add to the picture by incorporating interviews with others who have suffered multiple losses. Some of what helped her grieve seems likely universal (reaching out to friends, accepting help, consulting a counselor, reconnecting with activities and communities meaningful to her earlier in life), and other aspects more individual -- she's particularly emphatic on the valuable point that purported "stages" of grief unfold in nonlinear fashion and an unpredictable timeline, so telling people they "should" be experiencing this or that, or should be "over it" by a certain point is worse than useless.
I often think of Barry, one instance of which prompted the googling that led me to this book so long after its 2003 publication, mostly in terms laced with regret for what he and his family never got to experience and for all he still had to offer. He was becoming an excellent therapist, dedicated to the tough challenge of helping people with substance abuse problems. He was all about family and would I'm sure have been a great Dad -- we had a baby and a toddler by the time Barry passed away, and none of his Monday morning visits to my office to mock me about the Washington football team was complete without Barry's asking kindly about how the kids were doing. He would have been ecstatic to see the New York Football Giants win two Super Bowls in the Eli Manning era.
But the main thing I got out of reading this book was a reminder that Barry wasn't potentially a great guy or on his way to doing something meaningful. He had a wonderful, if too brief, life in real time and touched many lives. It's not a dress rehearsal; our lives are happening now. Maybe an obvious point, but worth pondering from time to time.
God bless you, Ms. Schocket, for writing your story, which cannot have been easy. Your son won't be forgotten anytime soon at American.
I never met Jay, but I knew Barry for a few years when he was a clinical psychology doctoral student at American University, where I teach. Nobody expects any healthy 30-year old to die, but it was somehow extra-shocking with Barry, as he was a strong, tough, athletic guy. He's frozen in my mind's eye as a young man, and it was a jolt to realize in reading his Mom's memoir of loss that Barry was only 3 years younger than I am. I guess that means he'd be in his "early middle years" now.
The book describes a ceremony in which a tree was planted in Barry's memory on our campus, concluding "The tree stands in a busy courtyard where students scurry to and from class. Those who are there now and those to come will never know him, but I hope they pause to read his name."
I did exactly that this morning and now will donate my copy of the book to the Barry Schocket Memorial Library in our grad student lounge. It was great to get to learn more about his and his brother Andy's childhood, not to mention their parents' rich life experiences. It's not a typical didactic self-help book, but she does add to the picture by incorporating interviews with others who have suffered multiple losses. Some of what helped her grieve seems likely universal (reaching out to friends, accepting help, consulting a counselor, reconnecting with activities and communities meaningful to her earlier in life), and other aspects more individual -- she's particularly emphatic on the valuable point that purported "stages" of grief unfold in nonlinear fashion and an unpredictable timeline, so telling people they "should" be experiencing this or that, or should be "over it" by a certain point is worse than useless.
I often think of Barry, one instance of which prompted the googling that led me to this book so long after its 2003 publication, mostly in terms laced with regret for what he and his family never got to experience and for all he still had to offer. He was becoming an excellent therapist, dedicated to the tough challenge of helping people with substance abuse problems. He was all about family and would I'm sure have been a great Dad -- we had a baby and a toddler by the time Barry passed away, and none of his Monday morning visits to my office to mock me about the Washington football team was complete without Barry's asking kindly about how the kids were doing. He would have been ecstatic to see the New York Football Giants win two Super Bowls in the Eli Manning era.
But the main thing I got out of reading this book was a reminder that Barry wasn't potentially a great guy or on his way to doing something meaningful. He had a wonderful, if too brief, life in real time and touched many lives. It's not a dress rehearsal; our lives are happening now. Maybe an obvious point, but worth pondering from time to time.
God bless you, Ms. Schocket, for writing your story, which cannot have been easy. Your son won't be forgotten anytime soon at American.
September 1, 2016
very helpful guide to the experience the author had in the deaths of her husband and son. gives the reader many things to think about,decisions to be made,who to seek out to guide in finance,employment and home changes.though written 12 years ago. most info still pertinent.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews