Microwave Grieving
When I was on vacation, there was a national news story about a bus crash in a large midwestern city (I don't want to be too specific here). A young couple was killed, as was another woman, a mother of five. The group was returning from church camp and was only a mile or so from the destination.
The young mother who was killed is the daughter of a college friend. I have not seen her in decades, and only know of her life through a mutual friend. I saw her on TV speaking at her daughter's memorial service. I am glad that at least through this tragedy so often there were words of Christian hope and truth presented on television.
I sat down last week to write my old friend a letter. I did; I still have it; I won't send it. It was rude, tasteless. I think I will keep it to remind myself that our good intentions sometimes need to be kept under wraps. The letter came off pretentious; that's the nicest thing I can say about it. I have no right to write my friend at such a time and no words to say to her. I will send a card with a few words soon. She and her family have been inundated with messages, I know. Two months afterward people she will need a message of concern, but not my overblown, preachy prose.
Grieving is so underrated in our culture. We are expected to move on. Microwave grieving; get it over with, no mess, no pots to clean. Older men remarry within six months of their wives' deaths. Women marry them. I suppose one can grieve too long if, in grieving, one is blaming and still in the anger stage, the nonacceptance stage. Grieving as acute sense of absence, nostalgia, missing the other, not desiring to think about remarriage--that should be honored and protected.
The young mother who was killed is the daughter of a college friend. I have not seen her in decades, and only know of her life through a mutual friend. I saw her on TV speaking at her daughter's memorial service. I am glad that at least through this tragedy so often there were words of Christian hope and truth presented on television.
I sat down last week to write my old friend a letter. I did; I still have it; I won't send it. It was rude, tasteless. I think I will keep it to remind myself that our good intentions sometimes need to be kept under wraps. The letter came off pretentious; that's the nicest thing I can say about it. I have no right to write my friend at such a time and no words to say to her. I will send a card with a few words soon. She and her family have been inundated with messages, I know. Two months afterward people she will need a message of concern, but not my overblown, preachy prose.
Grieving is so underrated in our culture. We are expected to move on. Microwave grieving; get it over with, no mess, no pots to clean. Older men remarry within six months of their wives' deaths. Women marry them. I suppose one can grieve too long if, in grieving, one is blaming and still in the anger stage, the nonacceptance stage. Grieving as acute sense of absence, nostalgia, missing the other, not desiring to think about remarriage--that should be honored and protected.
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