Blessed are Those Who Mourn

In my life, I think I have never really mourned. I have lost people, and I felt those losses in varying degrees, but mourning as an act is a bit of a mystery to me. Maybe I mean grieving. Are grief and mourning the same? Are both equated to sadness? I remember when my grandfather died. I was 13. My dad kind of burst into my room one Saturday morning, waking me as the sun came up. He announced the news about my mom’s dad’s passing rather like a trumpet playing reveille, lacking both subtlety and delicacy. I’m okay.

To be fair, my sister was also not terribly saddened by Grandpa’s sudden and unexpected death. There was a military funeral, and we kids stayed clear of any adult for the duration, and we were slightly – no, totally – oblivious to anyone’s grief, and, yes, I do feel bad about that, so sue my 13-year-old self.

I haven’t experienced much loss. On my dad’s side of the family, people live about 100 years or so. But my mom is the longest-surviving person in her immediate family. Both her brothers had all-too-brief lives, and both her parents were gone before she was in her forties. The younger brother was very close to me, inasmuch as he was 12 years older. But we connected and were what you would call kindred spirits. And when he died I was very sad, and I cried. But he wasn’t much on ceremony, and we didn’t have much in the way of a ritualized memorial. His friends and coworkers all came to pay their respects, and it made me feel like an alien. I miss him, and I think about him all the time. But I don’t know if I mourned for him. And I don’t recognize grief like I see in others in their loss.

I have over the years become this kind of funeral singer. I have been a semi-professional singer for many years, and one would assume that might include weddings. But for reasons I can’t quite explain, since about 1999, I have sung at more than a few funerals for friends and relatives. I sang at my father-in-law’s funeral, and years later, my mother-in-law’s. I sang for the mother of my closest friend. And I have sung at my own grandfather’s funeral, that of my dad’s dad.

It seems I have experienced more loss than I thought. But that only reminds me of my apparent disorder. Maybe I have no soul. Maybe I’m a sociopath. I don’t know. I’ve watched my parents getting older, and I can’t ignore the fact that they will pass someday, likely before I do. In my mind I’ve rehearsed eulogies. I admit it’s morbid, but I have also been thinking I need a will, and this is a product of getting older. You will get there. My wife and I talked openly about burial wishes on the return trip from her dad’s funeral. It’s on your mind at the time, and you do naturally go there.

Last year when Prince died, a lot of people grieved. They made pilgrimages to his home. They erected shrines and memorials. People wept and wailed. And most of them didn’t know him. I think the same happens with other celebrities, where fans mourn that loss as someone in their families. Recently, there have been a number of notable celebrities who passed, but I didn’t grieve for any of them like some might have. This doesn’t surprise me, but I worry than I might be somewhat cold. (I did check, and I have a pulse.)

I think I would react differently if I lost one of my parents or my best friend. I don’t like to think about losing people, and so maybe I am human afterall. I don’t look forward to experiencing real loss. I guess mourning is different for everyone. It’s a step in the process. Grief takes its course like a river flowing to the sea. Mourning is the canoe or kayak, or for some people, the speedboat. It depends on the individual. Does it matter how close we were to that person? It’s clear that my wife has grieved more over her mother’s passing than I did. But as I said, I am not sure I have ever really mourned.

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