The mourner (when the world marches on)

(Originally posted 3/12/2009)

One of the most difficult things about the worst moments in life is not the moments themselves, but the mornings, days, sleepless nights and years that follow.

Because in the moment-- in the initial horror-- there’s shock, and stillness, and disbelief to buffer the reality of the tragedy. Then there’s the coming together of prayers and plans and mourners and movement to distract from the reason for these things.

It’s in the moments when those who have wept with the mourner resume life beyond the veil that the real pain sets in. The loneliness of grieving while others are shopping or jogging or watching reruns or making soup. Because something inside says “how is anyone, anywhere, still able to make soup? How can people still shovel snow today? Why did the paper still come, as if this were just Thursday?”

But to the rest of the world, it is. Just Thursday. Just 8 p.m. Just another day.

This loss was not 9-11. There were no planes, no bombs. No flags will be lowered. How is it that something that feels like the end of the world, isn’t?

Ultimately, each of us must mourn alone.

Sure, others will undoubtedly give pause to a sunset, put in an extra call to Mom just to say “I love you”, hug a spouse a little tighter and give the kids an extra kiss at bed time-- but for them the grief is not all-consuming.

And while people elsewhere debate the next American Idol and pour over emails from the office, waves of grief still slam relentlessly the mourner’s weary brain.

“Why?” “Why?” Why?”

Some answers come. Some don’t. But the world spins on.

And one day, even the mourner makes soup, shovels snow, goes to the store. One day a smile returns, a little rusty, but still in working order. More surprising still is a laugh that bubbles up from someplace genuine-- a far cry from the one of obligation or imitation the mourner has thus far given at certain command performances.

Peace comes in pieces.

The trick is to find what parts are only broken, not shattered.