…damned if you do, and damned..etc.
Postcard from the valley of the shadow of death: about tears: i have observed a paradox: People want to see you cry, and then, immediately, they want to see you stop.
Maybe it’s just a matter of feeling powerful, believing they can give comfort. They seem to think you must be feeling better when you dry your eyes!
And what if you DON’T cry?
Maybe because youve already exhausted yourself in private or when the blow first fell. but for whatever reason, a bereaved person who “will not” weep is horrifying to everyone. Oh, maybe she just can’t, not won’t, let’s touch her, murmur words of broken pathos in her ear…there! Tears! Now then: there, there, you mustnt cry!
When John Gregory Dunne died, Joan Didion wrote about her mourning, along the lines of: “Fools! do they really think a basket of gourmet foods can console me up for losing a husband?”
I have spoken at several funerals by this time. i delivered elegiac comments and recited poetry. And i was thanked for it, praised, which is kind of an awful feeling. But it was gracious of the bereaved, because i now know that poems in this situation are like a bandaid proffered to someone who has been drawn and quartered. Or maybe like all those flowers. There they sit, yes, very nice, thank you. Please, take them home with you! No? No takers? Nobody wants those blooms, those floral compositions—which are of course already dead.
Why dont people do and say what they really want to on such occasions? If i have the opportunity to speak this time, i intend to afflict and distress everyone within the sound of my voice—and oh, yes: my voice carries! ”Comfort thyself. What comfort is in me?”
“Look DOWN! Look DOWN! You’re standing in your grave.”
ST UnWoked & UnVaxxed! 
Is it the same thing to want to MAKE people cry?
LikeLiked by 2 people
You, sir are bad!!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Sure, but I go with my strengths.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I don’t give Phuque #1 whether they do or not.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t know. I found all of the efforts that other people made to comfort me after Robin and my Father died, very comforting, actually. Especially because one set of cousins did not acknowledge the passing of Robin or my Father at all. They live far away, Thank God, but no phone call, no card, and even when I eventually saw them next, no mention of Robin or my Dad: no attempt to give comfort of any kind at all. I always kind of knew that they were jerks, but they outdid themselves.
I have never done anything to the cousins mentioned, and my parents showered them with love all of their lives, but they couldn’t be bothered to come to my Dad’s funeral, or even to call my Mother. Then, a year or so later, they made a big show of all traveling far to attend another Uncle’s funeral. This is not the first time that they have done this: they let us know who they consider important and unimportant by whose funerals they come to.
Most people are very kind after a tragedy, but a few people will see it as an opportunity to kick you when you are down. If you have never experienced this, be Thankful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I totes get that. I have experienced it. And I’m glad you were comforted by the attentions of the good ‘uns.
Memory: A friend of my parents was widowed suddenly. A brilliant,eccentric gent and a Quaker. Of course everybody who saw him was approaching to clasp his hand and murmur sympathy. And he would insert a small dog biscuit into their palms. Then watch with a queer demonic smile as they tried to process this gesture.
What should they do?Was he mocking them? Was he insane with grief? Just being a Quaker (you know they used to do outrageous things, like appearing naked in churches, to jostle people out of complacency.)? Ignore it? Ask him why? Say nothing and pocket the little biscuit until they encountered a dog? (The widower didn’t have one; he bought these mini meal bones solely for this purpose, evidently.)
Of course at that point in my life I just thought it was parlously funny.
When a few years later my father died, a few months after his death this gent came over , maybe to say goodbye to our house, a venue where he had partaken of my parents’ extraordinary hospitality so often, idk. (As you may have surmised, he didn’t have that many friends.)
And he cried, as I have never seen anybody cry. It was more like a fit, his face got bright red and he began a nearly inaudible hissing sound. It seemed involuntary, unbidden.
“Get him OUTTA here!” my BMD mouthed at me furiously. But I didn’t feel it was a moment that could be hurried. Nor prolonged, for that matter. It was sui generis.
I see it now as a well-deserved tribute to my father, whom this gent has long since joined in death.
LikeLiked by 2 people
This gentleman’s tears were a beautiful tribute to your father, Hypatia. The thing I found most comforting was when Robin’s male friends-all of them, big, tough, working class guys, roofers, carpenters, etc…broke down weeping at his memorial service. People who say that men should never cry are effed in the head. A man’s tears can be incredibly healing. Jesus wept when His friend died, and if He could do it, then dammit, other people can too.
LikeLiked by 2 people
What I dislike is that people immediately think women (in particular) use tears as a manipulative weapon. What few people know is that crying is the body’s way of releasing stressful toxins and in fact is a healthy thing.
Oddly enough, I rarely cry when I’m sad but cry often if I’m aggravated or frustrated which is why I’ve limited the time I spend watching the nightly news.
LikeLiked by 1 person