There are many kinds of grief. And ‘good grief’ isn’t one of them, Charlie Brown, though I suppose we all develop varying degrees of rationalizing that pain away. But no one is fooled, least of all our self.
I don’t go to funerals as a rule. I find them too compulsory (and compulsive), and surely it isn’t the one who has left that will mind my absence. Besides, having grown up in a Catholic home, our families’ goodbyes are anything but a celebration of a life well lived. Nor, for that matter, do they sing praise of that eagerly awaited after-life. And so I find other ways of saying farewell.
As I had done with sweet Lorraine just last month, I attempted last week to deal with my grief through words. That’s what creators do, isn’t it? We create our pain away . . . make good use of wrongful things and redirect the hurt into positive channels? It works wonders when the spirit is willing. And I did try. Really I did.
My grief exposed, goodbye words lived on my blog for a whole sixteen hours last Friday. They had to come down though. Goodbyes are for those who have accepted their inevitability. When the one you grieve is still alive, well, that’s by far the hardest grief of all, and goodbye might not be an option.
I tried to rationalize the pain away with a few words when in reality, the terms of grieving the living involve a lifetime of creating. Like it or not. The terms suck. But if I choose to not accept these terms then I must accept a hardened heart, and agree to feel less_ love less_ live less? care less . . .