There are few things in life more insufferable than loss. What an annoyance. What a perverse reversal of the opportunity life provides.
Almost no matter when loss comes crashing into our lives, it is inconvenient. It often seems as if some sarcastic, forgotten trickster god is pulling the strings for sick kicks. It is one of the great, probably the greatest, unifying experiences humanity has.
Loss of a friend, a family member, a lover or even just an acquaintance lurks around the corner of every moment. Yet we can live our lives in no other way than to categorize loss as unexpected. It is not just one sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, but a whole chandelier of daggers ready to drop individually or in droves at any moment.
When one looks at this most inevitable of emotional phenomena, one cannot help but notice that it comes in a series of gradations. Loss of a favorite artist, even though they have never been met, can have far more heft and cleave to it than the loss of a third cousin. The breadth of the impact seems to hinge on how intertwined the lives are, and that can certainly be a one way street.
Your humble blogger may consider himself extremely fortunate, as of 27 years of age, because none of the mammoth sized inevitable tragedies have made their move yet. Those closest have remained intact thus far; the parents, the aunts, the step siblings, the best friends, the good friends, the lovers are all still above the daisies. Sure, the greatest generation grandparents and a few other relatives are gone, but unfortunately they did not have the time to become the kind of connection that creates that screaming, unbearable, burning pain when it is severed.
Oedipus comes to mind, ‘Count no man happy until he dies.’ Until one is at the sure and true end of one's time, one has no idea just how bad, or good, it's going to get.
This is another odd bit of existence that can be propped up and helped by a technique from the Theatre world. Stanislofsky, the famous/infamous acting instructor, taught his creature how to feel as a murderer feels by amplifying the inner desire to smash an annoying fly. If we flip this exercise on its head, and amplify our own smaller losses, that of a pet or an especially significant item, by the largest magnitude we can, we may come close to understanding a feeling akin to one of those behemoth blows.
Empathy for another's loss is an invaluable skill, not only because it allows people to interact in a constructive way with the bereaved, but also because it steels the soul for that unavoidable event on the horizon. It is foolish to wish for those we love to not suffer these wounds, just as it is for ourselves. Healing and coping are the ultimate goals.
Time will blow its winds through our entire being, and each day, we must make do with what remains.
