A Thousand Shades of Gray

Leo Tolstoy, in the famous introduction to War and Peace, stated that every happy family is happy in the same way, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. If you listen to sappy love songs, they all tend to sound the same, with the same cliches and expressions. Happiness is certainly more pleasant than unhappiness, but it is not very deep. We do not think very much, or reflect very much, when we are happy. We just bask in the glow of our happiness, oblivious to anything that could threaten us, and hoping that these joyful moments of bliss could last forever. In my experience, they don't (perhaps you are more fortunate than I am in that regard). As someone who is not particularly happy a lot of the time (it is amazing how few people realize that, I do a lot of reflection, most of it rather unpleasant. I am happy when I am around others, talking and sharing stories. I am not happy alone, where my only comfort is my mind (and that is small comfort--the mind truly is a terrible thing, to spoof the NAACP slogan).

In these bleak days, it has become somewhat evident to me that within my family there is a wide variety of ways that people deal with grief. There are a variety of strategies that different family members use to try to escape/overcome/dull the suffering. Without naming names (except for my own, because I am generally someone who has little to hide, and who is vastly more harsh on myself than I am on others, as difficult as that may be to fathom), I will attempt to discuss the various ways in which my family is attempting to cope.

One way to cope with grief that most of my family is doing in one way or another is keeping busy enough that we don't think about the loss all that much. There's nothing like keeping your body and mind occupied through various means (some of them, like work and writing, productive, other ones (like playing computer games) are more escapist in nature). But this is one area in which most of my family has kept themselves from too much time to think. That is not to say that profound meditation/prayer has not occurred, it's just that it has tended to be uniformly sad, and quite frankly, not the most pleasant sort of thing. Even writing blog entries like this is difficult to me, because it means I have to think about what words to say about what the loss of my father means to myself and others, and that means I have to reflect upon the loss itself (which, although it may be helpful, is certainly depressing). It is much easier to escape, to busy the mind and shut off the suffering, and make one's heart a stone as much as possible.

Medication of the grief is another way in which my family is dealing with the loss. However, this is a much rarer solution, largely because many of us (myself included) do not drink all that often, although the use of antidepressants (not by me, though) also applies to some extent as medicating the grief. Here, sadly, fits a tragic tale that occurred when my grandfather Albright died. My uncle David never recovered from the death of my grandfather (to lung cancer, as he was a smoker) and drank often to medicate his grief. Four years later, depressed and despondent, he shot himself in the head, commiting suicide. Needless to say, I have taken the example to heart and have sought to avoid any substance which would treat only the symptoms of grief while exaggerting the despondency.

Another way in which I have (and perhaps others of my family have as well) sought to deal with the grief is by getting out of the house and trying to find company with others. I have not been so successful with the second goal as with the first, but when I am frustrated and annoyed, I don't like to be at home. I don't find much comfort for my difficulties there. I have some friends around, but not all that many (and very few my age, and even fewer who are my age that would be able to relate). Nonetheless, talking to others (even though the words they say--and the words I say for that matter--are not terribly helpful) is a good way to try to express the rather ambivalent feelings I have (then again, my feelings about just about everything are ambivalent, which is one reason I tend to avoid talking about feelings).

At any rate, there are many ways in which people deal with sorrow, some of these more helpful than others. Did I say that I tend to be even more crabby, cranky, and irritable when I am sad than normal (and I'm a rather crabby person most of the time anyway, but that's another story for another time)? Perhaps that is a bit obvious (though, again, people do not seem to understand or relate to me very well, especially when things are going poorly). Again, many members of my family have a good brave face (myself included), but that doesn't mean we do not suffer. It just means that the suffering is a bit beneath the surface. After all, some of us (again, myself included) do not trust other people very easily. We have reason not to, and that makes it difficult to let the barriers down, especially when we are not feeling our best. That may not be right, but that's the way it is, and we must deal with what is, not what we would wish to be.