I noticed again today, as I have for the last few weeks, that I actually know things once in a while. That must mean at least two things: I’m getting older, and I’ve been paying attention.
Not always deliberately paying attention, that’s for sure. But you don’t have to be Julia Child to recognize a turnip when you see one, and likewise, you don’t have to have been deliberately contemplating the universe to recognize certain scenarios or truths. In conversations with friends, especially sticky conversations about difficult topics, it’s kind of amazing to realize that no matter how sticky, it’s gotten as recognizable and reliable as that turnip. It’s true with sadness and it’s true with annoyance and apprehension, and so it turns out that, aches and pains and fleeting youth aside, it’s really useful to be older at least long enough to reap the benefits of all the bullshit, self-propagated or delivered by others, you’ve experienced through the years.
I guess I’m a helper (or meddler) by nature, and when faced with a friend’s dilemma I’ll always, before I even know I’m doing it, reach for something to do, a way to help, or for the thing to say, or for something that might make things easier somehow.
“Older” means these things might actually apply. Might actually be helpful. It also means it’s completely OK if they’re ignored. No more about being right, it’s more about rummaging around in your bag and pulling out something that fits, because at this point, something always will. A bad employee, a new house, a group of mean girls, motherhood vs work, professional maneuvering, cheating or cheating-on spouses, limit setting, a dying friend – none necessarily comfortable, but all of them worn before, and more than once. And if you live enough years, and know enough people, a lot of those things can happen at once, and that’s when you notice.
“I don’t know how to do this. I will cry forever, “said a friend recently.
“I’m feeling so guilty. I miss him, but I’m actually doing OK, and that makes me feel like maybe I didn’t love him enough. I feel like I ought to feel worse.” said another friend the same week.
Loss, it turns out, is easy. It’s not any harder than getting shot, or falling into a volcano, or drowning. It doesn’t have to hurt forever, it doesn’t have to leave you standing, and it doesn’t have rules, and it doesn’t have to be tidy.
“You just cry. That’s what you do. That’s all you have to do. And if you need to, you Google “stages of grief” so you remember it’s not just you, it’s normal, and it’s a process and there’s a net below of everyone else who’s survived it. And you just fucking break down crying all the time in the middle of everything. It’s literally unbearable at times. It knocks the wind out of you. Eventually it gets better, and you cry less, and the floor only falls out from under you once in a while when you’re not expecting it. But it gets better, and you hate it that it does, because it means you’re letting go.”
“Listen, every loss is different for just one individual, never mind as a rule for everyone. Sometimes it’s the fear of it that was worse, and then it’s done. Sometimes it’s a long, fading goodbye, and then we’re sad, but we’re ready. Losses represent things too, of course. Sometimes we’re losing a chosen life, or an era, or a dream, or our history or our future, or at least it feels that way. But sometimes it’s a simple loss, which doesn’t make it easy, but it is what it is. It’s healthy to be “appropriate” in grieving. We don’t need to be tormented. Some losses are easier than others, and we don’t get to pick which ones.”
I didn’t have to reach. I didn’t have to guess, or grope, or try for an answer that might work. It was all familiar, all shoved in that bag, rumpled and true and ready to lend if the color and size suits the borrower.
I’ll be wearing them all again myself, I know. They’ll chafe, rubbing through calluses years-thick, and they’ll change, leaving me struggling to understand.
Years ago during a break up, my now-ex stopped as he was walking out the door. He turned and said, “Well, if nothing else you were worth it for the material.”
I guess with enough time, paying even just a little attention, we get enough material to lend.