shanmonster | At a Loss

A couple of nights ago, Shirley, the mother of two of my friends, died. I remember what it was like to lose my grandfather. My world shuddered to a stop, and it infuriated me that life went on as usual for everyone else. Grief is different for everyone, and I'm not sure how I should proceed. When Papa died, I seethed with hatred for anyone who cried, expressed "condolences" (oh, how I hated that word!), or who tried to offer me succour. I detested the very concept of pity. None of these things could help bring Papa back to me. I didn't shed a single tear for about five years--not for my grandfather, not for a sad movie, and not even for having my bare foot stomped by a very heavy horse. There were no tears in my eyes. They'd simply dried up.

The tears have since returned, and my eyes burn and the lump in my throat aches for

elanya and

longpig's enormous loss. Although I didn't know Shirley well, I knew her well enough to understand she was a kind, independant, and strong woman. A memorial service is being held for her on Monday. I'll be there, but ultimately, I still don't know what good it can do.