It's the permutations we often forget about, isn't it? Loss of lives we might have had, of people someone might have been, fear of loss that never happens but somehow still reside as trauma throughout our lives ...
That comment in the piece about his only real regret being not able to respond to people writing about Sliver of Sky really hit me. I wrote him after reading that essay, and he wrote a short note back. I should have realized how many people would be doing the same, and the generosity he showed in responding to everyone.
Thank you for sharing the pondering of Laurie Brown about her father's death, especially about how many other feelings get mixed in with grief that grief can get lost in the mess. Sarah's words about anticipatory grief brings up the hope that when the time comes to grieve, even if we don't know what we're doing, that we will find camaraderie with other people who are trying to cope.
Oh, my goodness, this one hit home, Nia. Thank you. I loved Sarah Buttenweiser's quote, "Anyone who has immersed themselves in grief, an experience that isn’t exactly ever of one’s choosing, knows we don’t get over a loss, we carry it forward.” It reminded me of Dr Rita Charon, an MD PhD at Columbia (PhD in English), who (and I'm paraphrasing here) said that we don't "get over" grief; we metabolize it; it becomes a part of who we are.
"Closure" is a myth, and the word has come to be one I recoil against, as it seems to embody that unhealthy American attitude of "just get over it and move on." Our losses and our metabolizing them make us human and who we are.
Metabolize it, yes! What a good way to put it. Nobody is ever the same after a loss, which makes me wonder where the idea of "get over" even came from? I can see getting through the deepest pain, surviving to the other side, but that's not the same as getting over or even getting through.
When I was around 8 or 9, I became friends with an elderly woman across the street. I used to clean her house for 25 cents an hour (with which I then bought Jolly Rancher sticks at the KwikWay). She died on Christmas Eve. In terms of human relations, I probably never truly knew her but if I have never "gotten over" her loss, how is it people are assumed to do the same for closer, deeper ones?
I don't know how I missed this beautiful elegy -- and eulogy, of sorts. Loss and grief and all its permutations.
It's the permutations we often forget about, isn't it? Loss of lives we might have had, of people someone might have been, fear of loss that never happens but somehow still reside as trauma throughout our lives ...
Thanks for the link to the story about Barry Lopez in Orien. Lopez was a gift to the planet.
That comment in the piece about his only real regret being not able to respond to people writing about Sliver of Sky really hit me. I wrote him after reading that essay, and he wrote a short note back. I should have realized how many people would be doing the same, and the generosity he showed in responding to everyone.
Thank you for sharing the pondering of Laurie Brown about her father's death, especially about how many other feelings get mixed in with grief that grief can get lost in the mess. Sarah's words about anticipatory grief brings up the hope that when the time comes to grieve, even if we don't know what we're doing, that we will find camaraderie with other people who are trying to cope.
💕💕💕
Poignant words about grief, Nia, and thank you for including me. Someone else said that grief is like an ocean that we have to surrender ourselves to.
That feels a very apt image.
I don't know anyone who writes of grief with quite your depth and breadth, which seems fitting for what it is.
Oh, my goodness, this one hit home, Nia. Thank you. I loved Sarah Buttenweiser's quote, "Anyone who has immersed themselves in grief, an experience that isn’t exactly ever of one’s choosing, knows we don’t get over a loss, we carry it forward.” It reminded me of Dr Rita Charon, an MD PhD at Columbia (PhD in English), who (and I'm paraphrasing here) said that we don't "get over" grief; we metabolize it; it becomes a part of who we are.
"Closure" is a myth, and the word has come to be one I recoil against, as it seems to embody that unhealthy American attitude of "just get over it and move on." Our losses and our metabolizing them make us human and who we are.
Thank you as always.
Metabolize it, yes! What a good way to put it. Nobody is ever the same after a loss, which makes me wonder where the idea of "get over" even came from? I can see getting through the deepest pain, surviving to the other side, but that's not the same as getting over or even getting through.
When I was around 8 or 9, I became friends with an elderly woman across the street. I used to clean her house for 25 cents an hour (with which I then bought Jolly Rancher sticks at the KwikWay). She died on Christmas Eve. In terms of human relations, I probably never truly knew her but if I have never "gotten over" her loss, how is it people are assumed to do the same for closer, deeper ones?
Thank *you.*
Thank you for this.