Synecdo-chic

Some people have strange expectations of those who have just experienced a loss.

It has been a dark year; death has lurked behind every corner, to the point where I’m almost hesitant to ask someone, “how are you doing?” for fear of opening a floodgate of bottled-up grief that he’s only just managed to cork.  Because no matter where I look, someone’s someone is dying.  And the thing with death is that it’s one of those insensitive human quirks; it’s all around us, every day, and yet it only really hurts when it’s one of ours.

Let’s not get into the tired old “death is inevitable” dreck, or the differences between natural and unnatural/sudden deaths.   That’s not what I’m here to say.

I’m here to reiterate something certain people in various social circles seem to have forgotten: Everybody grieves differently.  Some people need to talk, some people need to withdraw.  Some people don’t want to be alone, some people need to be alone.  Some people cry, some people can’t.

To others, some people look weak, others seem cold, and yet others seem needy.  The fact is, they all need some time, whether they admit it or not.  But, arguably not too much time, because slipping into a downward spiral is most certainly not what someone’s departed loved one wishes of them.  This is why the typical company allowance for bereavement is one week.  “Go with the living; the dead can wait.”

But the point is, no one can tell you what to feel, or what not to feel.  But if your friends love you, they will tell you what not to do.

Because self-destruction will not help you, and you will not hear your departed’s voice telling you to stop.