Listening to Grief

In Shakespeare’s Love’s Labor’s Lost, the gentlemen of the court are talking in the rather pompous language common among courtiers of the time when news of the death of a princess’s father reaches them. This news reduces the courtiers to simpler, less stilted speech, and in a most insightful line a character states Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.

This line came to mind this past week when trying to answer an e-mail from a friend who has experienced much death among her friends and relations recently. Pretty words seemed so useless in trying to console her; like stroking a loved one’s hair with rubber gloves and telling her/him how soft and silky it feels.

My own experiences with grief have proved the old adage that while it is the strongest emotion, it is often the most short-lived. Plenty of you would probably disagree with that statement; sometimes grief goes unresolved for years. Grief may also be the most complex emotion embodying as it does the often mixed emotions that we hold about a loved one.

When my father died, I felt held hostage by the various shadings of the feelings involved in my grief. He had not been exactly an attentive father for my brother and me as we grew up, but he had matured through the years and had grown considerably both intellectually and emotionally. I had come to respect him, and our relationship had improved considerably over the years. I came to enjoy talking with him over beer or coffee. I sought his advice on various subjects, especially practical ones such as maintaining our home and taking care of the car.

Thus, the resentments of the past collided with the love I felt for him in the present; I cannot even find adjectives to describe some of the complex feelings I felt during that period of bereavement. I recognized, however, the strength of the powerful emotions (as opposed to feelings) accompanying my grief. Anger, sadness, helplessness, and guilt literally tormented me at times, coming and going so seemingly at will in my consciousness for a long time.

Those ill-defined, conflicting feelings left me quite unsettled, and sometimes I would catch myself crying a little, wishing things could have been better between us growing up. I called my mother a lot; we have always been close. She had her own mixed emotions and understood how I felt; we supported each other.

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