The Physicality of Grief
I hadn’t connected grief with
sex, but Louise Gluck does in a poem where she compares the physical impact of
losing someone close to her first sexual experience with a lover.
Our first encounter with both
is so powerful that we are sure people can tell by looking at us. We feel
radically different. So we stand before a mirror, or by a calm lake, to see if
we can detect any signs of the change in our reflection. Yet, as overwhelming
as the experience is, as transforming as it feels, we see little difference on
the surface of our skin.
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This speaks to me. When he first died, I did a lot of hiking, and I would post pix on FB. One of my friends would always say, 'oh you look so happy" or "it is so good to see you smiling". Those comments felt so offensive to me. I was smiling but I was barely standing. Her comments just felt like a way for her to feel better about my grief. I still feel like I am barely standing, to be honest. I don't know how I am even living this life. But I go to work and smile and go to my centre and smile. I can't go around just looking like a "bag pus" as my husband used to call it. I feel hollow inside. Someone like you could probably see that. But my mask works well for others.
ReplyDeleteAnd if someone should ask how we were doing, and we believed that they were willing to honestly listen, our smiles would fall and they would see how we were truly doing. And they would stand with us in grief. Thank you, Tricia, for your words.
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