Death

Christmas TV Memories


Right before Christmas, back in the days when Americans didn’t believe that the holiday could be cleansed of its religious roots, the week or so leading up to the big day was awash in thematic fare. Every drama and sitcom acknowledged Christmas in a very special episode and variety shows had glittery specials.

And there were movies. Lots of old movies. Jimmy Stewart and Alistair Sims.

When I was in kindergarten, Jonny Whitaker of the sitcom Family Affair, was the little “it” boy as far as movies and specials went. He did Disney and he starred in an adaptation of a children’s Christmas book called The Littlest Angel.

It was horrific really when I recall it. A little shepherd boy named Michael falls to his death chasing a butterfly along a steep mountain path. His parents have no idea he is dead when he travels back from heaven to retrieve a box of treasures to give to the newborn baby Jesus though his mother “feels” him hug her and clutches her heart in fear.

The point of the story was that even the smallest of us can be important in the grand scheme and that God loves all of us regardless, but I remember even today watching that little boy fall and knowing that his parents would be heartbroken when they discovered what had happened.

Consequently, it shouldn’t surprise me that so much of what Rob and I watch with Dee is littered with dead parents and dead or dying children. That is the stuff that makes our tummies tighten and is an easy dramatic reach for most writers. Why mess with success.

On a whim, I searched for a clip from the original show and, of course, I found it. When I was five and six and seven, I really liked this movie. I watched it every year along with Rudolph and Charlie Brown and J.T. and that scraggly cat. I wonder at myself these days because I can’t believe I associated such sadness with the joy of Christmas in a positive way.

The Other Side of Sadness -Updated


Update: This post was linked by a reader over at the YWBB (aka widow board) in response to someone asking if it really takes 3 – 5 years to “get over” the death of a spouse. I read the responses, and while everyone who replied made a point to stick to his/her own experiences, there was still a bit of self-serving justification going on and the real issue was never addressed.

You don’t “get over” the loss of someone you love. Over time it becomes a part of you like every other experience you’ve ever had – good, bad or unexpected. And as someone pointed out here in the comments, life is not a process so it makes sense that grief – like joy – is not something we 12 step through. Loss is an experience. More quickly than most people realize, we move on from even the worst events and back into the mainstream of life. And life changes. Even if my first husband hadn’t died, I would not be the same person today as I was the day I met him. Life is change.

It’s disingenuous to say that it takes years to find happiness, meaning or a new life. That happens quickly and in spite of ourselves. Whether or not a person chooses to cling to grief or not is the heart of the so-called “time line”. Bonanno makes this point himself in the book. People who chose to hold onto good memories and push on for the sake of the lost loved one generally are back to whatever normal means sooner than those who cannot get past the event or the feeling of unfairness. He also points out that people who experience complications in grief usually had underlying issues to begin with that the loss simply made worse.

I won’t post on the widow board, but if I were to answer this poster I would say this:

Life is what you decide to make of it. We carry loss with us always but whether or not it defines or dominates you is up to you. And even in the first months to the end of the first year, most people experience happiness and find meaning. Anyone who tells you it took three years or more to feel anything other than misery or that year two was worse than year one either had issues before or is not being all that honest – with you or with themselves. You can be happy. The choice is yours.

I just finished reading The Other Side of Sadness by George Bonnano, an associate professor at Columbia. It basically sets the record straight on all the ridiculous notions that surround grieving.

For example, “grief work”, the idea that grieving requires a thoughtful and painful laundry list of activities that a person must do before he/she can move on with his/her life. The notion exists thanks to a throw-away idea by Freud. How he can be the father of all that is counter-intuitive and the father of modern psychoanalysis at the same time is one of life’s minor mysteries, but essentially he briefly pondered the notion that in order for a grieving person to move on in life, that person must “detach” from the deceased and that this process was “grief work”. And that’s about all he said on the subject but those two words have been a millstone for me. I’ve been told more often than I can count that my wanting to move on was keeping me from grieving properly and wasn’t possible.

Bonnano has done quite a bit of research over the years, and he has discovered that pretty much the opposite of “grief work” is not only the norm but is healthier.

People who endeavor to move on and be happy – usually because they feel the deceased would have wanted that – have better lives and outcomes than those who succumb to the idea that grief is a process that must be worked through.

“Do you feel vindicated?” Rob asked me after I told him about what I’d read.

And I do.

Take that widow board with your nonsense about distractions and “grieve now or grieve more later”.  Neither of those things is true. Distractions are what healthy people do to keep from being overwhelmed in the beginning. It’s about balance. And the notion that grief can be suppressed and come back to cause havoc later? Based on a flawed study back in 1944 that was later proven to be wrong in its conclusion.

The book acknowledges that grief has ebb and flow and never completely disappears, but it debunks the notion that a person can’t get along without grief counseling. In fact, it says that 6 months should be the cut-off point as far as seeking help for complicated grief goes. Before that, sadness and emotional swings are normal.

And that’s the heart of the book, that grief is normal.  Human beings are built to grieve and if we simply followed our natural instincts, we’d be better off.

So, there is no grief process. No 12 steps. Distractions are good. Being determined to move on is the norm.

Any questions?

The One Where I Kept My Mouth Shut


Dee attended a pool party Saturday. It was the birthday celebration of two little school friends who she has known since kindergarten. They are twins. I have gotten to know their mother a bit over time and when she let me know last week that she was going to be flying to Ontario on an early flight the next day because her father is in the last stage of cancer, I naturally volunteered to help out in any way she needed. I’ve been there. I know. I offered. It’s simple because there isn’t much to think about really.

While the kids were swimming under the supervision of the twin’s dad, two lifeguards and a couple of other parents who wanted to help out as well, I sliced hotdog buns. At some point, things were set up enough to allow the conversation to flow past panicked preparation to topics of the day. Twins’ Mom related her frazzled shopping adventures of the previous couple of days and remarked that at one point she became irrationally angry with a cashier who was more interested in socializing with her customers than checking them out. She realized that it was just the stressful nature of getting ready for her daughters’ party while planning to leave to be with her parents and siblings that was making her react as she did but knowing isn’t always enough to quell feelings in the moment. She apparently mentioned it to her primary care provider not long after it happened because she went on to say,

“I was told that I reacted that way because I had started the grieving process and that if it got worse, I should come back in.”

There are so many layers of myth in that one statement that I almost couldn’t wrap my own thoughts up quickly enough to silence myself. Two years ago, okay maybe even last year, if someone had said that, I would have been all over it. Instead I just smiled and said,

“You’re normal.”

Because that is one of my stock answers where upheaval, tragedy, adversity and death are concerned.

The others?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

Not verbatim, of course. I flush them out with descriptors and if I am feeling particularly reckless and under the influence of empathy, I might share a personal story with as little advice or judgement as possible.

Why?

Because I know now that all people want is to be heard. Even when they ask for advice specifically, they are not looking for anything more than someone to hear, echo and tell them that they are normal and all will eventually work out. And you know what? For most people, everything will be okay – albeit different. Very few of us lack the resiliency to right ourselves after life capsizes our boats or destiny re-charts our direction without regard to our wants.

I know it’s hard to believe. Society these days is such a nanny, telling us that there is a therapy, self-help group or pill for everything. Some of us forget, in the face of unrelenting peer pressure, that human beings are designed to overcome emotional bumps, bruises and breaks because if we hadn’t been Darwinian law would have taken care of us long, long ago.

We are victims of our ability to be introspective and logically analytic, I guess. If we’d remained merely animals, we wouldn’t be able to second guess ourselves and we’d take crisis as it came and for what it was, reminding ourselves that we were hardly unique and that life goes on even if it sucks sometimes. We are nothing special after all, that bad times should pass over our house for those more deserving.

So, I am sorry you’re normal, but in spite of that, everything is going to be okay. Really.