grief

It’s been about six weeks, I guess, since time started ebbing and flowing carelessly at my feet.

There’s lots and lots of good people out there. There’s lots of hurting people out there, too. Lots and lots of people who want to help, and will offer whatever they can. Many even know their limitations, speak their awkwardness. Some withdraw, but at least give a reason why. Some don’t. It’s hard to make of all the offers – and even harder to take advantage of some, if any, of them.

Some of the offers come specifically from people who have had similar experiences, that is to say – losses of close people, loved ones, children, pregnancies. I hear from others who are grieving talk about how it’s so hard when someone seems to not understand, or offers advice that’s less than helpful, or even worse, they find hurtful. There seems to be very little to do to mitigate that. In the position of the grieving, I think there is a need to be consoled and offered any consolation available – however, even those who have been in similar situations don’t always offer the most consolation. Each person seems different in what they find helpful, what they’ve found helpful in the past, and how they found a way to move on.

A friend of mine text messaged me the other day, having learned what happened to me a few weeks ago for the first time, and probably 2nd or 3rd hand. She straight up admitted to not knowing the details of what happened, and asked straight up, admitting that she wasn’t sure if she should ask. I told her that I preferred people to ask instead of assume. I think this goes to just about everything right now – I prefer people asking straight questions and expecting to get a straight answer? How am I doing? I will tell you at that minute how I’m doing. What happened? I’ll let you know.

More than advice, it seems I long for a kind ear, a gentle presence, and maybe a joke or two. I need to know that the world is out there through the tragedy of what can happen to humanity. I need to be reminded, that with all the death and despair in the world, there is a reason we persist. To some extent, it’s individual, but I can only think it is because of the joy that is possible. I am NOT dead. I am hurt, I am afraid, I am deeply wounded and easily startled right now, but I’m NOT dead. I seem OK, I think, to the untrained eye. I can smile again, and laugh, and make jokes. To me, though, it’s kinda like going through the world with a really nasty sunburn. Sometimes a well-meaning friend will slap you on the back in good natured fun, forgetting you have a sunburn, and you’ll be in tremendous pain for a moment. Then sometimes your shoulders will itch uncontrollably, and you can’t do anything about it lest cause more pain. You can cover it up so it’s protected from the sun, but you can’t do anything but wait out until it heals.

One of the things that I’ve thought about is that to some extent, grief is grief, it doesn’t matter who or what you’ve lost, or when or how. Sometimes the loss of a relationship can be just as devastating as a death. I think almost anyone who is grieving has a thought of, “It would have been easier if x, y, or z was different.” On the other hand, though – not everyone experiences loss in the same way, so grief ISN’T just grief. There’s always going to be someone who thinks, “It’s not as big a deal as so-and-so is making it, I’ve dealt with something WAY worse than that, they need to buck up!” And then there’s always someone who says, “Wow, they must not have really cared as much as I would, I’d be devastated more than them!” What is it that makes us all so clumsy? What’s a person to do?

I’m just about as useless as asking specifically for what *I* need when getting through this. Pragmatically, I know that the only way out is through – it’s the getting through I’m not sure how to do sometimes. Compassion seems to be the key, but what does that even look like? Time is the other, but time is something no one has control over. This offers a space for people to try to figure out for me what I need, but I can guarantee the obvious ones are either being worked on or are counter-indicated by something else.

It’s a tough business, this grieving thing. If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be grief.

I’m thinking further on how it’s not the outstanding moments that define our lives, but what happens in between. In conversation with Jon, I think this can be more specifically looked at as the time that we spend living with the moments that seem so definitive.

During the spaces between the hallmarks of life – are we holding on to past relics in hoping of maintaining the past into the future, or are we forging new paths letting the past drop away as it may?

There was something very cleansing about my apartment fire in 1997. It was a hard experience, and one I would have never wanted or asked for. The fault lay squarely on the landlords who had failed to wire the circuit breaker box in the unit. I was 19, it was my first apartment, I had already had a really rough year anyway, and it left me couch surfing for two weeks and the expense was incredible. I had no insurance.

What did I find in the ashes, though? That I had been holding onto bits and pieces of the past. Relics. Souvenirs. Scraps of misery in the form of art. Coming out of this experience, which took awhile, made me realize that Time goes on, no matter what – that there is nothing permanent. Trying to hold onto things as if they will last forever, be enduring or even keep you safe is a great idea, but perhaps shouldn’t be taken so seriously. We can’t see it now, but even the most sturdy foundation of the greatest new stone building is decaying. The monuments to the dead of polished granite will be worn and weathered to the point that the names cannot be read.

Up to that point, I had been desperately clinging to trying to hold on and keep in stasis what could never be. The material world is constant in its ever-changingness. With the fire came an understanding that I was holding on tightly and going through the motions without considering what world might lay forward – not to mention, how I, myself, was in a state of flux. A couple years after the fire, I’d grow to appreciate the lesson that I learned, and to be grateful that the pieces of art that perished, did so. They were relics of misery that became consumed and cleansed through fire.

I would never wish for anyone to have to go through a fire – or have their home or possessions taken or destroyed. In some ways, the risk itself is an argument to live more simply so these things don’t become so precious that you grieve their material existence.

So what of humans? The stone building can likely endure past the lives of generations. Humans are always changing, with every breath and heart beat, from birth to death. Our thoughts fly through multiple realms. Our emotions ebb and flow. Is it the constant changing, despite our expectations of stability, that makes us believe fellow humans to be more valuable? And then, there’s the attempts at immortalizing through art and craft. What of that?

The trick, I figure, is to both honor and appreciate, understanding the fleeting nature and not trying to hold on too fast to the idea of it’s constancy.

First, I believe that any public blog I have should serve as a source for knowing my thoughts, as if you were perhaps sitting at the same table in a bar, and happened to start a conversation. Pretty much nothing more and nothing less. Shall we talk about the weather?

Second, I’ve been through a tremendously difficult two weeks, so breaking the silence of that in a public forum is not something I really desire, but will do so anyway.

The facts are simple. I am the mother of a stillborn baby boy.

The emotions are not.

Today I wrote something to illustrate a bit of my personality and my philosophy on life. I’ve had plenty of time in my life to cultivate defiance and to survive. I am a survivor.

Here’s what I wrote:

Life is one of those things. One of those crazy things. You become attached to it. It’s hard not to. To detach from it, is to detach yourself also from the ecstatic (and tragic) moments. That doesn’t make much for poetry or song.

I often say that you can use facts from the present and past to explain human behavior, but it doesn’t do anything but inform the behavior. The present moment is a culmination of our histories, but our histories do not define the present moment. Feelings fade, past wounds are healed despite our endless scratching at scabs. I am beginning to believe that instead of being defined by the outstanding and dramatic moments of life, we are instead defined by the spaces between – the times where it was not the hour of tragedy or celebration, but the long stretches in between where we were not in the throes of anguish or anticipation, but in the tasks of keeping the machine of life moving as usual.

You can’t truly live in memories and despair. My history has shaped who I have become, but I refuse to let it define me – even in hard times where memories lead to anger and sadness. Past is past, and if you can’t look towards the future and let go of the attachment to wounds, you cannot live. There is nothing in the past that can be changed, there is no history that can truly be rewritten. There is only acknowledging and moving forward. Time offers us no other choice. To deny Time’s march, is to deny truth. To try to stand still in time or go back will only cause more injury.

The time is now. What are you doing?

I thought I’d take a brief moment to post here, in absence of actual data. You see, I keep putting off posting because I have this ridiculous notion that I should have citations when posting to this darn thing – not just my random thoughts. Foolish, no? It’s not like I’m in school anymore – and it’s not like I’ve got more than three people reading this thing (hello various relatives!)

Things are well, and chugging along. Yoga, exercise, volunteering, shore-support for scuba, etc. I’m trying to keep abreast on the news of the world, and keep happy and healthy.

I think I should probably note that my blog doesn’t exactly look and act the way I think it should. For one, you should be able to click on the graphic on the site and go back to the main site. Additionally, the damned graphic doesn’t fit the way I wanted. I’m all thumbs with css. Help would be appreciated.

More to come, perhaps.