People Grieve in Their Own Way
December 12, 2011 § 23 Comments
Here is a photo of my mother in a moment of somber reflection at her ex-husband’s funeral four years ago.
The details pierce the heart of the observer: The pensive, my-ex-husband-just-bought-the-farm expression, the eyes closed as though to shield her from the cruel realities and tin-can-sharp edges of the circle of life, the consolation of the stranger: There there dear lady.
Her pose, and the gloom around it, reminds one of William Wetmore Story’s Angel of Grief:
Disconsolation is like writing; sometimes you need a metaphor, sometimes a margarita. Sometimes one serves as the other.
Here’s my mother fifty years ago. Someone must have died then, too.
PS More secret writing advice coming up tomorrow!