Leave me alone to grieve in peace
Afew months ago, when a maternal uncle passed away, a cousin and I had a conversation about the difficulties of conveying condolences. As much as it is customary to reach out to the bereaved and offer them our sentiments, it is also a delicate and complex task to accomplish. The predicament of the situation hit home recently when my father made a sudden, unannounced exit from our lives, leaving us stunned and shattered, and perplexed about life’s wretched inconsistencies. It was a tragedy that stood out for its abruptness, for he was a man so hale and hearty, so unlikely to move on anytime soon.
The collective sense of shock it evoked around us was made palpable by the people who poured in or called up to offer condolences. It is a routine thing in Indian society to randomly call on people in mourning. And therein lies the rub. Do we really know how and how much to condole with someone who is wallowing in a tragedy? In our keenness to be seen concerned and follow social patterns, do we overwhelm those who are already choking on unspeakable agony? Or do we evade it completely owing to our incompetence to face the ugliness of death? Which is the right way to help those in need of emotional support and partake in their sorrow?
It is not easy to confront people in grief for it requires a high degree of equanimity to stay stoic in an atmosphere fraught with volatile emotions and a heightened level of poise to tackle them. There is no doubt that the intent is to offer solace, but my recent experience makes me wonder if the purpose is duly achieved when people flock, for days on end, and force you to regurgitate that which you are struggling to digest. People seek details, proffer off-handed counsel that sound utterly futile in those times, and many even share their tragic stories in an attempt to offer comfort.
Again, it is all in good faith, but to be saddled with other people’s sorrows is the last thing you would want when your own heart and spirit are in shambles. Perhaps, on a later date, when the healing has started, as it eventually will, it would help to know that the worst of situations pass too and life goes on despite the turbulences that look like tempests presently. That there
Can’t we separate social customs from private concern, and avoid aggravating the sorrow with our banal formalities?
are millions out there with worse afflictions and our own sorrows are (as a dear friend put it) only ‘subroutine happenings in the vast theatre of life’ will make sense when we return to the surface after the plunge to the abyss, but in those initial days of excruciating heart-ache, unstinted support from those who really care is what will help.
Reassuring them that they can count on you, that they have your shoulders to cry on anytime, your thoughts and prayers are with them always, you are on call should they ever feel the need to hear a good word of inspiration and courage, and of course, indulging in assorted conversations for diversion is what will fill them with faith and help them weather the storm. In these modern times, when the written word accomplishes most of interpersonal§ communication, token phone calls and visits made merely as part of a timeworn ritual may be avoided, or can wait, at least until the aggrieved have gained some emotional traction and are ready to converse. To make them relive the tragedy over and over again is the worst disservice we can probably do when the wound is raw and woes are fresh. Our act and words should serve to mollify and torment, even unwittingly.
As someone said to me in the past days, it is the norm to make condolence phone calls and visits, and one cannot escape it. Perhaps so. But so worn and overwhelmed were we by the deluge of it that I wondered if it wasn’t possible to tweak the traditions and have a common memorial service like in the West, where people condole jointly, without inflicting renewed grief with individual visits? Can’t we separate social customs from private concern, and avoid aggravating the sorrow with our banal formalities?
Yes, those in mourning need moral support in tons, but it doesn’t come from making customary calls to tell them how sorry you are. It’s about reassuring them that as friends and family we will always be the emotional props they can rely on, and making sure we deliver on the promise. It gives immense solace to know that sorrow can be genuinely shared and alleviated over time. It happens when people are bound in unconditional love and allegiance to each other. It takes true compassion and understanding to turn perfunctory condolences to powerful palliatives.
The writer is a senior journalist based in the UAE