People react differently to loss. Some rail against it, perceiving the deaths of loved ones, missed opportunities and broken relationships as an insult or within a kind of a punitive framework. Others attempt to insulate themselves against loss by refusing to love, shying away from tenderness as if from a vampire, or by working and travelling compulsively.
Stillness in pain: a difficult task.
It is not difficult, however, to be immobilised by bereavement. The loss of a beloved has the impact of an avalanche or mudslide; it hits, and we are buried, lost to the world. A dear friend lost his wife to cancer late last year. I can tell whether he has been talking or thinking about her by the tenor of his voice. When absorbed by the day’s activities, he is characteristically jovial; when she has been present in his thoughts, his voice is low, broken.
Grief can raze the spirit. On hearing that a gentle, merry friend died suddenly of cancer, I burst into tears. This wasn’t the apocalypse of my brother’s suicide, but a fresh pain; I still cry every time I think of him. As a boy, he survived his mother’s suicide; as a man, he did not survive his wife telling him that she had fallen in love with another man. His twenties and thirties were lost in a delirium of cocaine and heroin abuse; in his forties, he fell in love for the first time, with a woman who had the same history of substance abuse but a different sexual history: one of infinitely sad and terrible abuse. Her swings were violent, disorientating. He didn’t care. They married and had a child. He desperately loved them both. His sickness shook his wife from her contempt. He died with her and their child by his bedside.
My gentle, merry friend did not understand that loss can be the greatest of opportunities, allowing for a revision of priorities and choices. The loss of his wife triggered the avalanche of his mother’s loss, a grief that had lain dormant for over fifty years.
In the first three decades of my life, I fought loss as if it were an enemy: tooth and claw. My brother’s death changed me. I now sit with loss and let it change me, let it blow open the windows of my soul to adventure, wisdom, a greater love. The sheer experience of life transforms. I tell my daughter, who is eight, that loss can also entail ecstasy.
Of the many men whom I am, whom we are,
I cannot settle on a single one.
They are lost to me under the cover of clothing
They have departed for another city.
- Pablo Neruda
August has been an extraordinary month for work. I have been asked to address a major scientific conference in the States next year – more details on that soon – and then this and this. Transformations and adventures. And contemplation of that which washes away.