A friend and I were in conversation about a business
subject when she reminded me that her grown-up son had died recently in a
motorcycle accident. Although I had sent a short condolences note (via email)…I
had forgotten. How could that happen? How could I have forgotten something so
traumatic to her and her family so quickly?
Because my mind was protecting me. As a mother I couldn’t
allow myself to contemplate such a thing. Even though my daughter and I don’t
see each other due to distance and estrangement, she is alive. I grieved my way
through her countless rejections and even focused on the roller-coaster ride of
estranged parenthood in my memoir for a chapter or two, but I heard her voice
not that long ago. And it was a pleasant conversation. Alive. Gone from me
physically, but present on earth.
Though my friend and I were in the midst of discussing
other things, she asked if I’d done grief counseling in my work with death and
dying. Not as a professional, I told her, though I do “grieve like a pro” as I
mention in my memoir:
I
can work with Death
Tender
heart, but tough enough
I
grieve like a pro
And being “tough enough”, I know, is how she remains
standing. We reach the age where things knock us down, but no longer hold us in
an eternal grip. In our 60s and 70s we learn that we can muster the courage to
stand back up metaphorically, though we may collapse several times before we
get our feet under us…we keep getting up. It’s impossible to explain to young
ones who can’t help but feel that every knock to the back of the knees is
unbearable…bear we do. When our life expectancy is down to single digits
according to the actuaries, we soldier on, shouldering a lifetime of grief,
some of it searing us with every step.
Some learn this lesson a bit earlier than others, but it
seems to be a design of nature to bless us with this ability to bear the
unbearable in later years. I’ve even seen notations in death and dying
literature that people who live very long lives are specifically able to
withstand grief better than most. Genetic adaptation for long life.
Personally I’m not seeking a long life, though I am good
with grief. Approaching age 65 I am happy, content, in a loving relationship
and satisfied with the scope and nature of my life. But I work part-time
helping folks who are older than I am find resources…and I promise…I have no
intention of living as long as some of them. I will be done with this earth
sooner rather than later.
My lack of fear of death makes me good at the bedside of
those facing death and perhaps even gives me an ability to counsel – mostly
just listen – in grief situations. And so I will offer to listen, to lend a
shoulder or an ear. But I thank the gods that my child exists, albeit far, far
away on another continent and happily content without me in her life. Still,
I’ll be here when my friend calls. I’ll help her bear the unbearable. It’s the
least I can do.
