I’ve been re-reading a helpful little booklet entitled “When a Parent Dies: Dealing with the Loss of Your Mother or Father” by David Kessler. He writes, “Our society places enormous pressure on us to get over loss, to get through the grief. But how long do you grieve for the man who was your father for 30 years? Do you grieve less for your mother of 50 years? The loss happens in a moment, but its aftermath lasts a lifetime.”
This notion was addressed in the fifth season of the TV show “Smallville”. In a shocking episode, Jonathan Kent suffers a heart attack that tragically ends his life. Fascinatingly, in the very next episode of the series, despite enduring the turmoil of his dad’s passing, Clark seems to think he should already be over it. He confesses to the first love of his life, Lana Lang, “I know I should be able to move on, but life without him doesn’t feel real.” Lana, who knows something about grief herself (she lost both of her parents when she was just a girl), replies with one of the best lines on mourning a loved one in the early days I’ve ever heard. She says, “It’s like you’re frozen, and the whole world is going on around you.”
Three years later, waves of grief can still hit me and remind me of the enormity of my loss. For example, recently I wanted to put on a film that was light and innocuous. I had just purchased a movie about two dogs and a cat for five dollars in a bargain bin at Walmart. So I played it. When the end credits rolled, I heard Dad’s voice in my head. He always used to say, “That was a good movie” with a sappy, sentimental tone of voice, as the credits rolled. This was his way of saying that he enjoyed the film because it was an animal movie (a genre he loved) that was particularly gripping. This memory made me cry. To quote Kessler’s words again: “The loss happens in a moment, but its aftermath lasts a lifetime.”
Kevin
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