In Loving Memory of Neal Casal

Five Years of Remembering with Love and Gratitude

Photo by Stewart Shining, August 26, 1997

There is something deeply poignant about the passage of five years. It's as if it represents a portal to the other side of pain, a threshold where the rawness of grief begins to soften, but the memories remain as vivid as ever. Many of you know that my ex-husband, Neal, took his own life five years ago today—the same day, many years ago, when he asked me to marry him in a tiny adobe in Joshua Tree in 1997. I had never loved anything as much as I loved him, and I know he felt the same. But looking back, I realize that the moment Neal said "I do" was also the moment our deterioration began. It wasn’t that our love for each other faded; it was more that his layers of pain began to weigh heavily on him, tapping him on the shoulder and reminding him of what he had yet to understand. I, on the other hand, was tightly bound by my own struggles, drinking my emotions away, unable to communicate effectively. And yet, not a day goes by that I don’t believe—don’t wish—that I had found the tools to open myself up, to bridge the distance that grew between us.

A divorce soon followed, with Neal's life consumed by relentless touring and my career keeping me away for endless days. Two careers ensured we stayed separated, filling us both—albeit separately—with immediate adoration and deep, hidden pain. As many times as Neal reached out through a phone call or a written love song, I dressed myself in steel armor that I just couldn’t seem to shed. I always believed that when I finally stepped away from a job that kept me insanely busy and disconnected from myself, we would find our way back to each other. But life had other plans that didn’t align with mine. Every day, I remind myself how lucky I was to love and be loved by him, and to have experienced a love story like no other.

For those of you who hold your hearts tightly, guarding them against the world and hiding behind the busyness of a career, I encourage you to loosen your grip, just as I try to do every day. I find solace in the beauty of nature and the gentle presence of an orphaned deer that I care for. It’s a reminder that love, for some of us, takes practice. It’s a journey of learning, growing, and sometimes forgiving ourselves for what we didn’t know then.

As I reflect on what could have been, I can only imagine what we might have become had we been able to navigate our own pain together. However, life doesn’t always give us what we want, only lessons to be shared in hopes they help someone else.

-Christy

If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out—help is available. Consider supporting organizations like Backline and the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, which provides free, confidential support 24/7 in the United States. For immediate assistance, call or text 988