Thinking Out Loud about grief and mourning

I have been thinking a great deal about the customs of mourning these past several weeks. It appears to me here in North America that we are nudged to be "OK" as soon as possible following a death and never to impose our unhappy state on others. (except for the briefest of moments) In fact we reward those who act “normal” carrying on as though nothing has happened. We use words like strong, courageous, resilient, “bounced back” and so on. We are suspicious of grief prolonged. (prolonged being anything more than a few weeks)

 

I know that I have been caught in this web. I have experienced death a few times and in recent reflections realized that there had been no chance to grieve or mourn those losses. I was reminded of an old friend who took a sabbatical from work when his wife was dying and then stayed off work for six or seven months following her death. The latter had struck me, intuitively, at that time, as a wise thing to do, if not an unusual one.

 

I am now thinking that activity and staying busy and involved isn’t necessarily the antidote to grief. It may be for some but not for all.  “Time out” from all of our obligations including social ones may be good Dr’s “orders,” and not just for a month. (each person, of course, will  need to help figure out Dr’s orders for themselves)

 

Even though arm bands, veils, black garb, and drawn blinds are gone, it may be that we could benefit from a reprieve from our usual duties albeit in a sunny room, not a darkened one. A room where we don’t need to talk or greet or comfort another but where food magically appears along with a hot cup of tea from time to time, and where a fire is laid and burning.  A room where we can fall asleep in the chair and where fresh flowers adorn the single table and where the cold is banished.

 

A room where you are automatically excused for not taking calls or answering emails or from trying to cheer up. A room where you can still expect, at any moment, for your loved one to re-appear- where maybe it has all been a big mistake, until you remember- no - this won’t happen. This room would look out on to trees, and birds and water. There would even be a door leading to a path. But no fear of encountering anyone (no matter how dear) who wants to offer comfort or be comforted by you. A cloistered place where one is permitted to be alone with ones thoughts and fears and prayers and pain. And where no one else expects otherwise. No excuses are needed here to decline lunch or any social gatherings. No explanations are required.

 

One day in good time, (whenever that is) the desire awakens to move beyond the walls. It is different for everyone. No explanation for staying or leaving is required. Life does indeed move on but not easily or quickly for some and not at all by the timeline we typically use in our country. We speak a great deal about grief, the internal process of grieving. And we have few rituals for mourning-how we express that grief externally. I have no words either. Only glimpses these days of possibilities.

 

In Joan Didion’s book, The Year of Magical Thinking, she quotes a passage from Emily Post’s 1922 book of etiquette, which she found affirming after her husband of 40 years suddenly died.

 

“Persons under the shock of genuine affliction are not only upset mentally but are all unbalanced physically. No matter how calm and controlled they seemingly may be, no one can under such circumstances be normal. Their disturbed circulation makes them cold, their distress makes them sleepless. Persons they normally like, they often turn from. No one should ever be forced upon those in grief, and all over- emotional people, no matter how near or dear, should be barred absolutely. Although the knowledge that their friends love them and sorrow for them is a great solace, the nearest afflicted must be protected from any one or anything which is likely to overstrain nerves already at the threatening point, and none have the right to feel hurt if they are told they can neither be of use or received. At such time, to some people companionship is a comfort; others shrink from their dearest friends.”

I am holding in my heart those who mourn, especially the “nearest afflicted.” And I think I want to say that there is more than one right way to go through this pain, so that we can all remember to tread gently with our dear ones and ourselves. For some, companionship is the answer, and for others, solitude is what helps the most. (solitude doesn’t mean physically alone but the chance to be alone, even with particular others)

 

And these words won’t help anyone either but they help me to reflect on “loss” including my own losses but in particular what the loss of a beloved and lifelong soul mate can mean to the bereaved.  With special thoughts of M.

 

Love always, Trudy

Comments

[Carol Ingells]

Trudy, thank you for these important thoughts. They do mean a lot and I have sent them on to a number of "nearest afflicted" folks in my life. If you get a chance, you might like to read my "followup" blog post.
I am mindful of M and of you.

Smiling through my own pain,
Carol

[Jo-Ann]

Trudy
Thank you for coming back on-line. Your posts are profound, stirring and inspiring. You create an on-line presence of love. This post touched me deeply. I am so sorry for your loss.
Be well