“I don’t know who I am.†It’s such a tiny sentence, said in a whisper by our tiny friend Edward, and yet, what a giant sentiment not just to feel — I would say “at 12, especially,†but honestly, it’s true for any age — but to voice aloud. Edward says it to Shay after a tough few days at his new school: Wanting to fit in, Edward starts wearing one of Jordan’s coats and imagines his brother giving him a pep talk all about purposely bombing his placement test so that he isn’t outed as a genius and remembering that it’s more important to be cool than smart. It’s terrible advice, but it tracks. Edward is anxious not just because he’s starting at a new school after an unimaginable trauma that he’s still at the beginning of processing, but — remember that he’s been homeschooled since second grade — starting at a school would’ve been anxiety-inducing even without the trauma. He wears Jordan’s coat to school to feel cool, like someone else, and connect to Jordan.
But it’s superhot out, and he’s immediately drenched in sweat. Edward just runs when kids tease him and his teacher tells him to take off the jacket. Later, Lacey comes to talk to him and tells him a story about his mother from when they were younger. “Your mother was fucking awesome,†she says. It’s the truth, and it will always be true. It’s something Lacey’s been dealing with in group, how she feels like she spent her whole life jealous of everything Jane had and who Jane just inherently was, but is reminded how it’s a gift that she recognized how special her sister was while she was alive. Edward could say the same thing about Jordan — both about the jealousy (certain things came easier to Jordan) and recognizing how special Jordan was. Lacey is not her sister, and Edward is not Jordan. The coat was a costume. So Edward doesn’t know who he is. Of course, he doesn’t! His entire world was taken right out from under him! Who is he without everything he’s ever known?
You don’t have to lose your entire family to understand that feeling. That’s what the loss of a loved one does to everyone. Death is a thief. Death plucks a person right from your life and takes with it how you define yourself. Whether you lose a parent, child, sibling, spouse, or friend, you’re suddenly forced to come up with a new definition for who you are in a world without them. Shay responds to Edward’s confession with a “join the club,†which, again, is a small sentence that packs so much punch. Edward only needs to look toward everyone else who has lost someone in the plane crash to know that he’s not the only one trying to figure out who they are now without the person they loved.
Look at Becks! Agh, Becks! I still tear up every time I see this precious child on my screen. It was her and her mother against the world. Kojo is a doting uncle, but he lived in Ghana with the rest of their family; he’s mostly a stranger to Becks. Like Edward, her world, as she knew it, has completely changed. She’s only ever known herself and life as Akua’s daughter. In “Chrysalis,†Kojo finally gives his sister a traditional Ghanaian funeral. Everyone is dressed in black and red, and after the service, there’s a big party celebrating Akua’s life. But at the service, the casket is supposed to be decorated to reflect the person’s life. Kojo wants Becks to decide how Akua’s casket should be decorated since she knew Akua better than anyone else. Becks wants her mother to be a butterfly. And that’s what Kojo makes happen for his niece.
When the casket, covered in a set of giant butterfly wings, is set down, Becks takes a minute before she gets up from her seat and sits next to it in front of the church. She only knows life with her mother and that’s where her mother is. Why would she not go sit with her? Whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m crying again or anything. WE’RE ALL FINE. (That’s a lie.) Kojo is beside himself, and so it’s Adriana — still making very meaningful glances at Kojo in her spare time, by the way!! — who gets up and goes to sit next to Becks by the casket in front of the congregation. She takes her hand, trying to offer this little girl any comfort she can, no matter how small the gesture. Thankfully, Dear Edward isn’t just here to gut us emotionally. We get to see Becks, Kojo, and Adriana at the reception, where there is music, dancing, and laughter. I touched on it a bit in the pilot-episode recap, but Dear Edward’s overwhelming message is one of hope. This scene here in the church basement is exactly that. Hope. Hope for Becks and hope for anyone trying to figure out a new normal.
If there’s anyone who understands the struggles of figuring out your new normal or of having to figure out who you are after a major loss, it’s our girl Dee Dee. Not only is she redefining her life now, but she’s learning that everything she believed to be true and good and solid about her life up to this point was a lie. She’s still in Los Angeles tying up loose ends — the amount of death certificates needed and hoops to jump through to get accounts closed or changed when someone dies is absurd!! — and good for her, she is at least trying to dial down the anger pointed toward other people in her husband’s life. But it’s hard: The person she should be angry with most is Charles, and he isn’t here. Still, Dee Dee is trying. Take, for instance, when 16-year-old T comes flying through the door with no explanation, acting like Dee Dee is the crazy one for wanting an explanation as to why they’re there in her husband’s house and why they have a toothbrush they need to pick up. I get that T is a youth, but come on! Have a little grace for this woman. Anyway, Dee Dee learns that T needed a place to stay when their home life started to deteriorate. Charlie, as his L.A. people call him, offered them a place to stay as long as they needed. “He was a really great guy,†T tells Dee Dee. It’s a nice sentiment, but it obviously stings. It turns out he was a great guy to everyone but to his own wife.
Dee Dee still has a nagging curiosity about the man in the photo with her husband. T tells her his name is Evan, but they don’t know what kind of relationship he had with Charlie. So, Dee Dee heads over to the LGBTQ youth center to ask Noelle. Don’t worry, friends, she kicks off the conversation by apologizing for what she said about kombucha. Noelle doesn’t know exactly what Charlie and Evan’s relationship was either — she never wanted to ask Charlie explicitly — but she tells Dee Dee she has a suspicion that, yes, her husband was exploring his sexuality. She also tells Dee Dee about how much good he did for the kids at the youth center. Again, how bittersweet that must be for Dee Dee.
Finally, she tracks down Evan. He tells her about how he and Charlie (Does hearing her husband be referred to as “Charlie†sting every time, too? I’d imagine!) met at a low point for both of them, how they “propped each other up,†and how yes, they were romantically involved. “The last thing I ever thought I would be was a homewrecker,†he tells her sincerely. “I wouldn’t give yourself so much credit. It was a lot more than you that wrecked our home,†she says before walking out.
Dee Dee goes back to Charles’s condo and imagines him there, playing guitar and singing to Bruce Springsteen. It’s more clear than ever that she didn’t know the man at all. She thought they were a team all this time, but he kept an entire life from her. In anguish, Dee Dee throws a family photo against the wall. Symbolism, baby!
To wrap up her trip to Los Angeles, Dee Dee goes and does something pretty interesting. She finds T at work, a job Charlie helped them get, and gives them a Rolex she got as a gift for her husband. It’s worth $7,000. She knows Charles helped T out, and she says this can be his “parting gift.†T can do whatever they want with it. I mean, is it wild to toss someone a Rolex like that? Sure. Maybe I’m being a little too idealistic about the whole thing, but the action of Dee Dee helping out someone her husband wanted to help makes me think there’s some hope for her to move through her anger after all. Or maybe she just really wanted to get rid of that dude’s watch.
Postscript
• We meet some new grievers this week! Amanda, who’s been in grief group from the beginning and whom we saw walk away from her fiancé Brent in anger at the airport, flips out when a new guy walks into group. He has no idea who she is — that only makes her angrier that he’s there. It turns out this man is Steve, Brent’s brother. He cut off all ties with Brent, who was an addict who stole money from their parents. Apparently, Brent tried to make amends when sober, and Steve dismissed him. In the end, Amanda tells Steve that if he needs to go to grief group, he should, but she doesn’t want anything to do with him. This is complicated, and I am into it!!
• Amanda fixes pianos for a living, and Edward is a piano prodigy who hasn’t played since the crash — this cannot be a coincidence.
• There’s another new voice in group therapy: Meet Sam. Sam’s been there since the beginning but has remained mostly quiet. Here he is the one who tells Lacey how lucky she is that she recognized how special her sister was while she was alive. Let’s assume he missed out on that opportunity regarding whomever he lost on the plane.
• Lacey and John argue (what’s new) about how to handle the hundreds of letters sent to their nephew — Lacey thinks they should screen them all before even thinking about giving them to Edward, and John doesn’t think it’s right to open them. I’m sorry, but John is being an idiot. Edward is 12, and these letters are, at best, intense, at worst terrifying! Of course, you should read these. They end up deciding that John should move the stash to his office so that Edward doesn’t find them before they’re ready, and they need to get a doorbell camera. These two need to figure their shit out!
• Edward tells Lacey that he can’t look at her because sometimes she looks like his mother? Just punch me directly in the face, why don’t you?
• Is there a love triangle brewing? Adriana and Kojo are so obviously into each other, but both seem too scared to do anything about it. Meanwhile, Adriana meets up with her old pal Eric, a reverend and someone she grew up with, to ask if Kojo can use his church and the basement for Akua’s services. There’s a lot of history and feelings there, and Adriana ends up kissing Eric before she leaves. I mean, she pulls away pretty quickly and tosses in a “what the fuck?†for good measure, but still, it happened! And Eric doesn’t seem too excited to see how close Adriana is with Kojo and Becks at the funeral, but, like, it’s a funeral, sir. Grow up!!
• I’m sorry, is Edward not in therapy yet???