There's no set timeline for grief. Judaism has a timeline for public mourning-7 days of Shiva and 23 days of Sheloshim. These are intense periods with a lot of prayer and care for the bereaved, as well as worship and certain behavioral restrictions (things I, personally, don't feel like doing anyway when I'm mourning...like concerts, games, public celebrations). Now, I'm not Jewish, but there's a lot of things I think they get right. Like mourning.
But grief is different from mourning. It's private and internal. It's a wave, or a sledgehammer, or a dark blanket, that drowns/slams into/covers the individual dealing with it, often unexpectedly and in the most inconvenient ways.
I hate unexpected. I'm a control freak and when I'm grieving I want to do it quietly on the couch with my dog. And no one else in the room. I want a cup of tea on the table and a fresh box of tissues and maybe some background music. I DON'T want it when I'm on the phone with the real estate agent, or in line at the grocery store and someone uses a phrase Capt would say, or any other place where there's another person present....especially if that person is unaware of my situation. That would mean having to explain my quiet hysteria which only makes it worse.
I have found that most people, especially younger ones who've never experienced the death of a spouse, are profoundly uncomfortable with the grief of another person. Some people act like it's contagious, backing away with a few spoken platitudes, and dropping you like a hot rock. Others try very hard to say the right thing but speak in cliche's, saying such things as "Oh, he's in a better place!" and "Heaven has a new angel" (which is theologically WRONG. Here's a bunch of scripture explaining what happens and why) Look, I know they mean well. They're trying to give comfort as best they can, and when it happens I smile and thank them for their kind words. But, I wish our culture here in the USA knew better how to treat the bereaved (I blame it on a lot of things but that's a rant for a different day)
Sometimes, the best thing is to say nothing, just hold my hand, or hug me, or hand me a cup of coffee and sit for a bit. Let me cry and talk and not feel embarrassed that I'm taking up your time or making you uncomfortable. Sometimes the thing might be to meet me at the Asian restaurant and share a giant bowl of soup and a pot of tea. Or text me in the evening with a picture of your dog being goofy. SOMETHING that tells me you see me as a real person and and not....I don't know...a WIDOW. Even though I am.
I remember after Himself died in 2015, thinking the idea of widows wearing black was a good one, and unfortunate that black was stylish, because now there wasn't something that told the world that this person was in mourning. There was a very strict prescription for how long to wear black based on your relationship to the person who died. And I realized one of the practical things about wearing black was that you didn't have to think about what to wear. I was having a hard enough time remembering to eat. Having to choose between a red shirt or a blue one was more than I could handle. Knowing that all I had to do was grab a black one was one less decision I had to make, in a period of intense decision making. I am not doing that this time. Capt made it abundantly clear that he despised black.
Yesterday I was at the fabric store. I needed some thread to repair some pants for a friend and decided I also needed (NEEDED...Even though I already have 4...) a new bathrobe. I chose some soft flannel and as I was waiting to have it cut, a pair of older women, getting fabric for quilts, commented on how soft it was and asked what I was going to do with it (Women in fabric stores almost always ask what you're buy your fabric for) and I said "a new bathrobe". How nice! That is so soft and will make a fabulous robe! One thing led to another and I, of course, announced that my husband had been dead almost 2 weeks and started tearing up. The 2 of them and the clerk immediately launched into sympathies and and empathies. One of them had lost a husband several years prior. Another has a sister who's lost 2. There was no shock and fear and pulling back as if I were contagious. It was "well then you DESERVE a new bathrobe!" and one of them handed me a laminated encouragement card, and another invited me to the quilting club on Friday. Now THIS is the way to treat a new widow, I thought. Like a real person, not like a freak of nature who's contagious. As they finished up and walked away, they said "You've got this! You'll be just fine!"
And you know what? They're right. I've got this. I'll be just fine.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4
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