There is this tension, I find, in the grieving process, between wanting to carry on with your life as it is, and between wanting to collapse in a heap and simply be with your grief. I am taking the first route (most of the time) because I feel the best way to honor my dad and his life, is to do the things he always did and would have me do: care for my family, connect with friends, do good work in the world, and always, always keep on learning.
So I have thrown myself into a new job, into writing projects, into taking my children to their customary activities. And for the most part, it feels like the right thing to do. It keeps my energy humming and it keeps me engaged and interested in life. However, I have moments when I feel like screaming, “How can I possibly be expected to do all of this? I’m grieving!” I happened across this blog entry by UUMomma, who commented here for the first time the other day and who also lost her father recently. I found myself nodding my head in agreement. Where are the rituals, the observable signals that we have lost someone dear to us? What have we lost in giving up those outward signs of mourning that allowed others to realize that we should be treated gently?
My mother-in-law, when her own mother died, chose to wear black and white for a year in her honor. At the time, I thought that was silly, morose, even self-indulgent. But now I see how that can be a tangible reminder, to others and to oneself, to tread lightly.
April 17, 2008 at 9:30 am
(Reminder of something you already know…) Just don’t use “busyness” to *not* grieve. Hugs!
April 17, 2008 at 9:47 am
I think it’s doubly hard when the friends and family who are aware of your loss are in another part of the country, so unless you tell them, friends and neighbors you see in your daily life are disconnected from your loss because they don’t see it. I remember feeling that tug between the desire to be stoic and the desire to cry out to strangers “I’ve lost my father and I’m in a great deal of pain!” I remember even feeling a sense of guilt about acting outwardly normal and wondering if I was not properly honoring him. Yes, maybe we were too quick to do away with wearing black.
April 17, 2008 at 12:17 pm
It’s actually a good reminder to everyone, all the time, that we can’t see what is going on inside other people — and we should try to be kind.
Hugs to you.
April 17, 2008 at 12:26 pm
We lost a lot when we discarded old traditions. Wearing black was a good way of just letting people know. In communities where everyone knows each other, perhaps not necessary. In the busy chaotic lives we all seem to live, also difficult to know what place such an outward sign would have.
I found that I started going to the cathedral around the corner from where we live, just to sit in peaceful mediation. I lit candles and tried to breathe deeply. Something I found very difficult to do those first months after my father died. Whenever my breath flowed past my heart a dam of sadness would darken my being. It took the candlelight scattered through the prism of my tears to slowly lighten my thoughts. Then, finally, I started to talk to my father again and feel his companionship. Something I missed, since my grief had blocked it out. As long as you and your loved ones can treat you with gentleness, then you will do fine.
April 17, 2008 at 3:30 pm
I’m sorry for your loss. It’s hard to go back to normal life when you mind is still grieving for the other person. I hope you find peace and find a middle ground between grieving and living life.
April 17, 2008 at 3:40 pm
I’m sorry for your loss.
After my daughter died, I felt like a freak out in public. I wanted to have a t-shirt that said “Ask me about my dead daughter,” but it had to have a flap on the front that I could lower sometimes so it said “Don’t ask me about my dead daughter.”
Over time, I devised methods of keeping her memory close to me, and you will over time come up with your own methods for that too. For me, I began wearing a mother-daughter necklace all the time as a sign to me. It wasn’t a signal to everyone else, but it at least reminded me. You might find something like that helps, even if you only wear it beneath your shirt where no one sees. (The memorial tear necklace is another appropriate one.)
Sometimes I do wish for the Victorian practice of having a standard period of mourning. Americans, when they’re polled, think it takes two weeks to “get over” a death. (That’s because it’s easy for someone else to “get over” *your* loss, right?) It’s hard because we look the same, but inside, everything is different.
April 17, 2008 at 4:04 pm
Hey,
Thanks for this. I (obviously) totally get what you are saying. I’ve been carrying on, and keep waiting for the opportune moment to collapse (because you can’t do that on piano lessons day, or when you are supposed to be pulling a newsletter together, or heaven forbid the fridge is empty!). I don’t know that self-indulgence is all bad, though.
Here’s to carrying on, and on, and on.
April 17, 2008 at 7:45 pm
A friend of mine is Hindi, and suggests that grieving cannot possibly be over until the anniversary of the death. She believes according to her custom that this is when the soul of the loved one returns, and can pull at the living one last time. In a way that feels true. Whenever I’ve lost people who were really important in my life, it’s usually the following year, after experiencing a whole cycle of the seasons, little things, without them, that you finally can really reflect on what exactly it is you have lost. I think then you finally come to terms.
April 18, 2008 at 7:40 am
In the old days, the Chinese spent 3 years mourning for a parent. In that space of 3 years you are not supposed to marry, not allowed to celebrate the New Year, not supposed to have firecrackers in the house. You are also not supposed to wear red and other bright colours.
These days the mourning period has been shortened to a more “practical” period. Some observe it for a year. Some, just for a month.
I agree with you that something is lost when we gave up these rituals. Our ancestors created these rituals because they recognise that these rituals fulfilled some important emotional purpose. Over generations, we forgot these functions.
April 18, 2008 at 2:05 pm
I like the rituals people are suggesting. The grieving process is individual, and gradual, and I think rituals help ground us through those times — whereas the cold cruel world goes on.
Best wishes to you and your family.
April 18, 2008 at 8:31 pm
Yes, best wishes to you and your family, YM. This post and these comments are so reassuring in such a hectic world. I believe more Americans would like to reclaim some of rituals that used to help us through the grieving process. I hope writing about your dad and what you’re going through in your blog helps at least a little. Take care, K.
April 19, 2008 at 7:06 am
SO very sorry for the loss of your Father. My heart goes out to you- I just lost my mom several weeks ago. I feel like you do, everyone just went totally back to normal right after the funeral. No sympathy , calls etc, everyone expects me to be “normal” and I can’t be. So I allow myself to not be and do what I feel like. Hard with 2 teens and a toddler- but it is what I need . Do what you need to and allow yourself time to grieve,- whatever that means for you. Hugs, Lisa
April 19, 2008 at 2:02 pm
It is very strange that people are expected to just carry on as if nothing has happened after the death of a loved one. What a weird world we live in.
I hope you can find that balance between carrying on and allowing yourself to grieve. Do what you need to do for YOU! (You already do everything for your family.)
Hugs.
April 19, 2008 at 7:51 pm
This is hard. I’m sorry.