Good Grief!

Good. Grief. Good, grief. Good grief!

As they say, punctuation matters.

I was brought up in a world, or at least in a culture, in which grief is not a shared emotion. I came to believe that was a good thing.

Be strong.

Have faith, or Faith, if you prefer.

Remember it it not your will but God's will.

I heard those phrases during many a crisis ... parents' deaths, fertility challenges, fleeing Manhattan after 9/11. And I believed them.

I live in that same world now as an adult, a world in which we give very little credence to grief, in which there's all but a note in our i-calendars that says, "OK, time to move on."

Grief has been on my mind for a week now, since the unexpected death of a neighbor and friend, the dad to two of my boys' friends. Of course, I've been very sensitive to what my boys are feeling and thinking. So I keep asking them about what they are feeling and thinking. Then my oldest snapped at me, "Why do you keep asking me about this? Leave it alone."

That's when I realized it was my grief I was trying to get my son to feel, to express. He may or may not grieve. As long as he supports his friend, he doesn't need to, I suppose. But I need to, and I've sensed that many in our community need to as well.

I need to grieve a little more publicly than usual. Hence, this blog entry.

But as usual, my sons bring a much-needed lightness to me when dealing with dark issues. Last night at dinner, after Kevin, Luke and I returned from the memorial reception for our friend, the youngest grilled his Dad on death. "How many sleeps until you die? Until mom dies? Until I die?" And it kept coming back to the simplest thing for the little guy. "But who would fix me breakfast?"

While their self-centeredness drives me crazy at times, it saved us on this tough subject. Because I feel safe in assuring the boys that there will always be someone to take care of them. When they are as old as we are, they will have friends and perhaps their own children to do it, just like my boys take care of me and shine their light all around on those dark days.

Cheers! La Chaim!