Grieving

So, last week I spent in Canada, the reason for no postings for the week. I think that was also convenient for some other reasons because my little eulogy for Grandpa was Googled by some relatives and when others heard of it and wanted the link, I could just send them the basic link without having to find the specific post's link. It was the top entry, still, so they weren't bogged down with my other silliness unless they wanted to delve into it on their own.

But alas, the writer that I am can't let too much more time pass without writing something!

Since my Grandpa passed away, the subject of grief has, for obvious reasons, been on my mind. I don't know that cataloguing my stages would really be possible because it's kind of haphazard and mixed with other life happenings as well, but it definitely does add a shade of something to the other life happenings. I think that's normal--big things always do something to little things, right?

Well, as I was wasting, or uh spending time at work trying to find things to do, I followed links from friends' blogs, mentioned in my last post, and found some new blogs to frequent. In one of them, a blogger was reviewing Ursula LeGuin's 2004 Gifts and included this quote, which I found extremely timely:

"Grieving, like being blind, is a strange business; you have to learn how to do it. We seek company in mourning, but after the early bursts of tears, after the praises have been spoken, and the good days remembered, and the lament cried, and the grave closed, there is no company in grief. It is a burden borne alone. How you bear it is up to you. Or so it seems to me." (202)

Of course those last two lines are pretty platitudinal, but I guess the new generation has to get them somewhere or they wouldn't recognize them as platitudes. In other words, maybe it's okay to stick that kind of thing in kids' books? I don't know. That's really beside the point. I digress. blah, blah. Sorry, a few more clichés for you.

Anyway, I liked it especially finding it the week after the funeral and the pomp of being with family and everything--the week that I'm back to my daily life and I suppose somewhat feeling that I had my week to mourn and now I can move on. But feeling perhaps guilty because I'm not really moving on at the same pace I was going before. I guess that's normal. Luckily, I have a job with good people and they treated me compassionately when I came back. That, too, helped me feel a little normal, too, in my saddened state.

Thank you, God, for the reminders of my normalcy, in spite of all my oddities.