Every Wednesday

Every Wednesday I will post something about grief. Sometimes it will be a reflection on an aspect of grief’s landscape. Now and then I will share from my own journey of grief, because in the sharing of our stories we find strength and build a community of people that support one another.

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Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Imagining the Unbearable

Journal entry 27

Iris Murdoch, a novelist and philosopher, wrote, “Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved.” Even with the power of her great mind to comprehend the abstracts of reality that befuddle most of us, Murdoch could not figure out what bereavement felt like. Then she died and her husband, John Bayley, found out. 

Before Ev’s death, I certainly didn’t understand how completely time, the world, everything comes to a halt when someone close dies. How the past and future are frozen in time, and at the same time are completely wiped out. Or how the present is a numbing to everything, yet is prickly and feels like hell. How it is nonbeing but also being suspended between thought and action, between feeling something you can’t quite name and feeling nothing at all. 

Herds of emotions stamped around like bison, running over whatever saunters off my porch in their way. Then they are gone, leaving me torn up.


  1. I don't know what's helpful, but I do know that all that you wrote in this post struck a chord with me - blindingly.
    I shall with respect, quietly read through your posts

    1. Rose, if you have a question about something later on, let me know and I'll share what I can from my experience.

  2. My husband died 9 days ago. Reading your blog is helping me feel less alone. Thank you.

    1. Oh I am so sorry, Laura! Nine days in, I didn't know what to think or what to do. I was numb to the world. Thoughts kept repeating about this not making any sense, phrases that circled around and around. And no one knew what to say for someone who died as young as my wife. The main reason why I began this blog was because I didn't want other people to be where I was, feeling alone.So anytime you need a word of presence, let me know.