January 17, 2018
Today's #refugeingrief writing prompt quoted Hannah Arendt (her words appear in italics).
"Evening falling — a soft lamenting"
snow mutes the color, the sound, the life
my hopes, my cares, my energy
hibernation awaits
denning up for a cold and hungry winter
When will the thaw come? WILL a thaw come?
"What I have loved
I cannot hold.
What lies around me I cannot leave"
I surround myself with things that are of you
cocoon myself in your quilt
wear your t-shirts, your hoodie
I can buy more things you would have loved
arrange them with
what remains
into displays
but none of it brings you back
or even summons you closer
which must mean that's not why I do it.
Though to be reminded of you
is not even necessary
because thoughts of you
are constant companions
But when I see or touch
these remnants of your life
or enrobe myself
in what you left behind
I know you were real,
you were mine.
"Nothing overcomes me —
this must be life’s way."
I am not defeated.
I cannot win
the game of mourning
yet somehow
not all is lost.
What is the meaning of this?
This life, this loss?
No outcome will be worth the sacrifice of my son.
I could learn something and become a 'better person.' Ugh.
I could share something that comforts someone else.
That idea strikes a chord with me.
I'd like to put something of value out into the world
to contribute to my community. Courage, strength, peace that someone else could call upon when they lack such things. If I can offer comfort, in my mind, it at least counts as something.
I could do some good in Rader's name, to make a difference that would have meant something to him. That's what the foundation is about: offering the opportunity for more children to attend the kind of school that nurtured his creativity and love of learning in his early years. Maybe another child who doesn't fit the framework of traditional education has a chance at a more fulfilling life because of one of our scholarships. It's something. It's even great. But does it give meaning to the loss? That he "will not have died in vain"? That "something good comes of it"? Is there any meaning in these trite phrases that roll so easily off the tongue? Is there any truth there? Does what comes out of the loss EVER mitigate the loss? I think it's false logic. Correlation, not causation.
Yet, I posit that if there are two possible results of the loss of my son — one, that I am devastated and permanently reduced to a state of mere subsistence, or two, that I am devastated and somehow draw upon all my resources to fight and move and yes, possibly grow — the one where I truly live is the better one, the more meaningful one.
There's a quote commonly attributed to Winston Churchill: "If you're going through hell, keep going!" It's a good one, though he likely didn't say it. But this one: "The best way out is always through" is accurately credited to his contemporary Robert Frost. It's been my signature quote for many years. I don't remember when or where I first heard it, or to what initial situation I might have applied it, but it resonated with me then, and lifts me up now.
I understand that grief is not linear, and so "through" may be a bit too confining a description of the direction of the work of grief. Also, I suppose, there's not really an "out" at which I will ever arrive. But there is progress, yes? Not step-wise, but gradually over time, if I keep moving, doing the work of grief, I am farther along toward integrating the grief into what my life is now than I was. Than I would be if it overcame me and took me down into the pit. Grief is also individual. So my revised quote (not nearly so eloquent as Frost) may apply only to me. Maybe, "The best way forward is to keep moving." With the caveat that there will also be some backward, and that 'moving' encompasses a lot of different actions. One of those for me, I've proven to myself in the past 10 days, is writing. And others: working on the foundation website. Putting together a gallery of photos of the life we lived while Rader was present with us. Keeping myself healthy by drawing on the resources of my community as I have need, and contributing back into that community what I can.
"Evening falling, a soft lamenting,"
life will never be what it was.
But I will find the good
and live.
(Quotes from Weariness, by Hannah Arendt)