Tis Better

I read a lot, which isn't truly surprising. Currently, I'm actively reading three books but I think I have bookmarks in around five. A few years ago, I stumbled upon a book called The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett. The synopsis sounded good so I bought it. It was just as good as it had promised to be. I suggest you all read it.

Near the end, one of the main characters, Cecilia, says


I wanted to sit down in the middle of the road and stay there for the rest of my life. Whenever someone came by and said, Hey, Cecilia, what're you doing there in the road, I'd tell them, missing people was a full-time job, being sorry about what was gone was going to take every waking minute now, so much time and energy that I had no choice but to stay right on that spot until they all decided to come back.


That quote has stuck with me. When I miss people, I want to sit down and let the world turn around me. "Missing people is a full-time job." It takes all your energy just to continue to breath without them and any other form of action is unthinkable. I couldn't do that forever, but I could for a while. And it isn't just missing people who have died, although they are included. It is missing people who are far away, who you are used to having near you. After a time though, I realize, like Cecilia, "I couldn't wait for them. They weren't coming back." It is impossible to regain what has been lost. Trying to regain it will only lead to more heartache.

There is another quote I've found from Liars I quite like as well, "People die, terrible things happen. I know this now. You can't pick up and leave everything behind because there is too much sadness in the world and not enough places to go." Grief is inescapable. We carry it with us, as much as we carry happiness.

And that is the trouble with grief. Even if we are grieving for people who are still alive but far away rather than dead. The sorrow is always there, just waiting in the wings for some little thing to cue it's entrance. And then the world stops. You are incapable of moving, of speaking, of doing anything other than sit down and cry for what was. And not just tears, but shuddering breaths and body-wracking sobs, like a tidal wave on dry land. You think you've moved through the stages of grief to acceptance.

After you accept loss, after denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, what then? You accept, but what do you do with the gaping wound in your chest? Knowing despite the pain, you wouldn't trade a minute spent with those you miss for anything.

I wish I knew what to do in the face of missing people. But I don't. All I know is the world keeps turning, the sun will rise tomorrow, the grand narrative of humanity does not care about our intrapersonal turmoil. The best thing to do is keep living, and if that means sometimes just stopping to miss people, I guess I'm OK with that.