On Grief - The death of a spouse - By : K.B.Chandra Raj

" Of all the wonders I have heard it seems to me most strange that man should fear,
Seeing death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."
Julius Caesar.

So my friend, "... go not like the quarry- slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed by an unfalterable trust,
Approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him,
And lies down to pleasant dreams."

*************************************************************************************

On a sultry summer night Jay Follet forty one years old, married and father of two living in Knoxville, Tennessee gets a call from his brother that their father is dying. His wife hurriedly knocks up his favorite dish to fortify him for the long ride. He does not wish to wake up the children - kisses them while they are asleep. Kisses his wife while reminding her to make up her mind what she would like for a birthday present. The father's illness turns out to be a false alarm. On his way back to the family Jay is killed in a car accident.
James Agee in the rest of the novel, "A death in the family" narrates with laconic precision and poetic intensity, in the best words in the best order how grief gets an icy death grip on the family and changes their lives whole sale in a trice.

Grief cares not whether you are a minimum wage earner at the Big Mac window intoning, "Next Please", an Anthony, a Cleopatra or a twenty first century Sultan of the stock market -one who has high rolled his way to fortune by fair or foul means. He reserves the right to blind side you at will and he will if he so chooses.

Grief knows not its depth until a dear one - child, spouse or sibling has departed.

Charles Dickens, who we believed like the ring master in a circus ring, could whip words to do his every bidding confesses, " No words can express the secret agony of my soul." Grief is personal. It is custom made and fashioned according to one's psyche. It matures and ripens in silence and introspection. It cannot be communicated. It does not just go away gently into the good night. It cannot be sliced and shared. It is your cross and you alone must carry it.

Sir Walter Raleigh confined to the Tower of London and condemned to be executed sent this note to his wife:

" Thy mourning cannot avail me. I am but dust."

The Egyptians opulently mummified their dead believing that the entombed would come to life at a future date. Alas, " In gilded tombs do worms in fold" we are told.

At death Shakespeare informs us we set out to " that country from whose bourn no traveler returns."

But Houdini with his trade mark counterfeit cockiness and braggadocio bragged to his many fans and comforted his wife who believed him that he would return after his death to tell it all. We are waiting.

Death the " Grim Reaper" is the greatest equalizer. He puts "finis" to the story of our lives. No second edition. No sequel. No instant replay. No more back aches and body aches that swing with the seasons. No more running with the hare and hunting with the hound in the corporate jungle. No more saving for a rainy day like ants gathering grain bit by bit. No more worry about long term health care - No more.

Why then do the living mourn the dead? Why do they permit grief to sear their soul and somatic self ? Why are effervescent and engaging personalities, fun to be with reduced to the size of dissolving ice cubes by grief?

Shock, numbness and disbelief are the initial reactions to the death of a spouse. They then give way to self pity.
Helen Keller who talked and heard with her fingers ; who saw not with the two seeing eyes that we are blessed with at birth, but saw even better with Shiva's third eye of wisdom she was endowed with must know a thing or two about adversity. She called self pity, "our dangerous enemy"

A single person is missing and the whole world is empty. And into this empty world enters an unwelcome guest. Loneliness - the continuous presence of absence. And he does not come alone. He brings with him his buddy, Fear. Fear that you will not be able to cope with new challenges from altered circumstances.
" Life with my husband was routine" said a wife, " but life without him is unbearable".
Days, weeks and probably going into years will be measured not by the calendar but by throbs of self - inflicted pain. Grief, loneliness, fear is not confined to homo sapience alone. Dolphins refuse to eat after the death of a mate. Geese search for the lost mate until they themselves become disoriented and die.
You curse your rotten luck. Why me ?

How does Cleopatra react on Antony's death?

"Noblest of men, woo't die?"
Hast thou no care of me?.Shall I abide
In this dull world which in thy absence is
No better than a sty?"

Has thou no care of me? Me, me me. In this dull world. To the charismatic, fun loving queen it's now a dull world. And in Antony's absence the world to her is no better than a sty.

Don't you see you are only thinking of yourself. So dear friend your grief has nothing to do with the dear one departed. You are sorry for yourself. You are scared.

This now is the terminal test by which you will be judged. Use what ever crutch you need to stand up with " Jacquellinesque" fortitude and dignity. Religion, inner strength, guts or gumption- anything. Anything that will save you from going to pieces,to rubble and ruin. Friend. Have you tried putting together the scattered shards of a shattered mirror?

If it is any comfort, know that things as bad as this and a hell of a lot worse have happened to millions of people before and will happen to millions of people hereto fore.

You have to cope my friend because you have no choice.

" Our birth is nothing but our death begun"

K.B. Chandra Raj