Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Aug 21, 2018
C.S. Lewis writes "I seem to remember--though I couldn't quote one at the moment--all sorts of ballads and folk-tales in which the dead tell us that our mourning does them some kind of wrong. They beg us to stop it. There may be far more depth in this than I thought. If so, our grandfather's generation went very far astray. All that (sometimes lifelong) ritual of sorrow--visiting graves, keeping anniversaries, leaving the empty bedroom exactly as 'the departed' used to keep it, mentioning the dead either not at all or always in a special voice, or even (like Queen Victoria) having the dead man's clothes put out for dinner every evening---this was like mummification. It made the dead far more dead." p. 65, A Grief Observed
So, I agree and disagree. When people talk to me about Joanne or listen to me talk about her I find it helpful. No shrinking from saying "she's dead." Does she beg me to stop grieving? Most likely she'd say "O, get over it."
There are dimensions of my grief that have to do with her loss, e.g., not being with her granddaughters as they grow. However, much (most?) of my grief has to do with what I have lost. That loss is most keenly felt as loss of companionship. As was said last night, it is like an amputation.
A recent widower, at the picnic Sunday, asked me "what is hardest for you?" I answered "the loss of a partner in conversation." When I asked him the same question he said "eating alone." Both of these response make clear why relationships, family and friends, have loomed large during my bereavement. Blessed with a wonderful family and a host of friends I do not give up hope.
Blessing,
al
So, I agree and disagree. When people talk to me about Joanne or listen to me talk about her I find it helpful. No shrinking from saying "she's dead." Does she beg me to stop grieving? Most likely she'd say "O, get over it."
There are dimensions of my grief that have to do with her loss, e.g., not being with her granddaughters as they grow. However, much (most?) of my grief has to do with what I have lost. That loss is most keenly felt as loss of companionship. As was said last night, it is like an amputation.
A recent widower, at the picnic Sunday, asked me "what is hardest for you?" I answered "the loss of a partner in conversation." When I asked him the same question he said "eating alone." Both of these response make clear why relationships, family and friends, have loomed large during my bereavement. Blessed with a wonderful family and a host of friends I do not give up hope.
Blessing,
al
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