If I scratch where you don’t itch, I’m sorry. But there are those who will relate to this. I spoke with a friend today who is just now beginning to feel the depth of pain from the loss of someone she deeply loved who died a couple of years ago.
Like most of us, she was surrounded by family and friends when the loss was new and keenly felt by all, but then everyone returned home to continue their lives and there were new headlines filling their radar screens. She also continued life as best she could, trying to not excessively bother anyone about her grief. She knew society’s rules. She would be a “good girl” by properly “moving on” as we often say.
Now two years later, the enormity of loss is pounding her soul. “Why now?” she asks. There is no answer to her question. Time, which is supposed to heal all wounds hasn’t. It has no timetable. She may now be ready to talk about what she has not been able to talk about before, but no one is listening. They have all gone on with their lives and she is supposed to do the same. Isn’t that what society expects? Don’t we want to smooth things over and keep all sad memories carefully tucked under a blanket of pristine grass?
Grief is messy and we don’t like messy. Death is dirty and we don’t like dirty. It needs to be cleaned up and put away . . . far away where it is neither seen nor heard from again.
How does that work exactly?