Book Report Companion Through the Darkness–Inner Dialogues on Grief Author: Stephanie Ericsson, 1993 –– Review by: Lynn Goldade, SOS Newsletter Volunteer-April 1996 “After the death of
a significant person, we are suspended in limbo; we are not the persons
we used to be, nor the persons we are yet to become… For mourning
is the constant reawakening that things are now different…” As this book is very specific to spouses or partners, and their extreme personal grief, it may not be of interest to those who have experienced other types of losses. But for those of us who have lost a spouse or partner, it may help to read thoughts and ideas that validate our own. If you read this after some time has passed, perhaps a year of two, you may appreciate even more the author’s metaphors and powerful thoughts. The book’s simple format allows you to pick up a chapter or two at any time, or read the entire book over a week or weekend. The author writes with excerpts from her own diary following her husband’s death, and from short essays that expand the thoughts from those times of chaos. We seldom see death in these days of 100 year life spans and wonder drugs, so we are totally unprepared when it strikes. “In other cultures, it is not uncommon for a widow to mutilate herself after her husband’s death. This would only make sense to those who have been there. She feels such torturous pain on the (inside) that relief seems only to be found in counter-pain.” “Broken Promises” tells of the powerlessness we feel over life after the loss of a spouse or partner. In addition, the chaper lets us face the inevitable lessons brought on from living through our loss. In the cruel message, “perhaps there is a reason behind this,” we feel we’ll never be convinced there was any good reason for our loss. But eventually, after enough time has passed, we might admit something we did, or said, or became, was better. Perhaps because we survived this loss we became a better person. I hope I did. “Ashamed…” talks about helplessness. “My tendency as a wounded animal to hide, or collapse into shamed passivity – not because I’m to blame, but because I’ve been overpowered. I am utterly helpless.” You want your spouse back. You want your life back. You feel sliced into pieces, bleeding all over the place. I remember I felt I had no skin to protect my raw hide. My nerves were exposed, my bones broken. “Dare I Smile?” tells of the confusion surrounding how, or even when, to start acting normal again especially when some people expect grief to be over and others expect you to grieve forever. “Reality Shifts,” “Anniversaries,” and “Time To Divorce the Dead,” also address the guilt of moving on with your ife. “How Are You?” talks about impatience with living. Those around us care, but don’t want to hear how we are really doing. Rather, they’d like to hear we are fine. They don’t ever want to be in our shoes, nor face our agony. Someone recently said to me, “It’s hard to believe how much energy it takes just to go on after a partner dies – this is without even accomplishing anything, but just to get up and go anywhere at all.” The author stated: “Like the victims of war and natural disasters, the sudden loss of someone so important plunges us into a realm where we have no control. My psyche had been slammed against a brick wall.” And the slamming comes again, and again. I really identified with her quick quips, her metaphors, her piercing words. “Shock: A paralysis that starts in my soul and quickly attacks my body.” “Like a windshield hit by a rock, I shattered. Like the windshield, I was in one piece, but useless.” “People said stupid things…I looked at them, aliens all of them.” “Grief is a tidal wave that overtakes you, smashes down upon you with unimaginable force, sweeps you up into its darkness, where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped.” “Grief means not being able to read more than two sentences at a a time. It is walking into rooms with intention that suddenly vanishes.” “Grief makes what others think of you moot. It shoves away friends, scares away so-called friends, and rewrites your address book for you. Grief makes you laugh at people who cry over spilled milk, right to their faces.” How can the price of a gallon of gas be so important to anybody? Or your stupid daytime talk show. Spare me the weather complaints, please. “Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn’t kill you in the making.” “The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know a bloody thing anymore.” “The most idiotic thing I heard was, “It was meant to be…” Whatever your loss, parent, child, sibling, spouse, it is always “the worst kind of loss.” Although it is tempting to compare types of loss – and many do in their condolences and conversations, those who’ve lost partners don’t want to hear your story. “…I know I’ll
fall apart, and that could be messy. Pieces of a soul all over the pavement.” Suddenly, everyone wants to give you advice. This is ludicrous. We’ve just experienced the ultimate reality. Don’t tell us how to feel. “I buy books two and three at a time, but I can read only a paragraph or two…The books speak about this strange process of grieving. But I relate to nothing. The writers try to explain the unexplainable to me. They try to be my teacher, when clearly I am theirs.” “Logic is totally ridiculous.” This isn’t a story about her husband’s death. It’s a book about feelings. And it is gratifying to know others do know how we feel – especially those who’ve shared our experience. It’s a bit comforting to see the feelings and thoughts you have, or had, put into such eloquent words. SOS Newsletter Article, Mental Health Center of Dane County, Inc.
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