My Dad, The Game of Chess & The Fight For Life
“The rules of the game of life...demand from us that we never give up the fight.”
Say Yes To Life
I have so many memories of a happy childhood and many of those revolve around my dad. Certainly he struggled with mental illness and depression, although I'm not sure how clear it was at the time. And yet, I remember my dad, Shelly Perelman, as a fun-loving jokester, joyous spirit and all around good time dad.
Some of my fondest memories of spending time with my dad were playing chess, a game he taught me and a love that sticks with me to this day. That's why it's so appropriate that today, on what would have been his 76th birthday, as I was out jogging while listening to a book by Viktor Frankl (no surprise in that) I heard the following quote. It should be noted that the following, taken from "Say Yes To Life" was written in 1946, just one year after Dr. Frankl's liberation from the concentration camps.
Let us imagine for a moment: A chess player is faced with a chess problem and he cannot find the solution, so—what does he do?—he hurls the pieces off the board. Is that a solution to the chess problem? Certainly not. But this is exactly how the suicide behaves: he throws his life away and thinks he has thereby found a solution for a seemingly insoluble life problem. He does not know that in doing so he has flouted the rules of life—just as the chess player in our allegory has disregarded the rules of the game of chess, within which a chess problem might be solved by moving a knight, castling, or God knows what, at least by a simple chess move, but certainly not by the behavior described. Now, the suicide also flouts the rules of the game of life; these rules do not require us to win at all costs, but they do demand from us that we never give up the fight.
The Chessboard of Life
My dad was a good man who made a great and grave mistake when he killed himself. He, like other's who die by suicide, I believe want the living to hold them accountable. Accountability does not mean blame or judgment, but having respect enough for them to hold them accountable, expecting them to take responsibility for their choices. Like all good people who do bad things, and that includes you and to be sure, we all deep down want to be held accountable and need to take responsibility for everything, the good chess moves and the bad ones too.
And yet, those who died by suicide must also not be remembered only for their one, final tragic choice. Nor should they be defined merely by the worst decision they ever made. Those final few moments were one move among many in how they moved through the game of life, and we owe it to them, to ourselves and the chess game of life to remember the entirety of their game.
“It’s not about the final move, but all the moves. It’s not about our loved one’s death day, but their birthday. It’s not about darkness. It’s always about the light.”
Life, Love & Light
Yes, my dad threw away the chess board because of a seemingly insoluble set of circumstances and impossible move he believed he could not make. He was wrong and I believe during these past sixteen years in the afterlife he has been coming to terms with, and taking responsibility for, his final checkmate. I also believe that today, of all days, he sent this message through loud and clear on his birthday. It was a reminder to me, my brother, sister, mother, family and the world, to you, that no matter how desperate you might feel, no matter how much suffering you are enduring, no matter how dark the chessboard of your life appears to be, remember the words of Dr. Frankl and heed the reminder of my dad, Shelly Perelman, "that we must never give up the fight." It's not about the final move, but all the moves. It's not about our loved one's death day, but their birthday. It's not about darkness. It's always about the light.
Happy Birthday Dad
I'll keep moving your pieces and telling your story for as long as I'm on the chessboard and playing this game of life.